#when therapy throws you face first into a wall

[ygodmyy20]

Oh wait maybe l have actually been having a 3 month long anxiety situation all summer

[kiss-dumbbunnies]

sorry for using it without permission

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Not Like Him

Prompt: Because of your past, you hate confrontation. One day, Niall comes home particularly grumpy.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: anxiety, past verbal abuse mention

A/N: hi all!!! continuing to try and post on here. please feel free to send any niall x reader prompts / ideas my way :)

You’re in the midst of putting a dish you just washed away when you hear the front door open, then suddenly slam shut. The pictures hanging on the wall rattle as you peer around the corner anxiously. The first thing you see is Niall bustling through the door. Normally, having Niall home would cause a surge of warmth and excitement to rush through you– but today, instantly, you recognize that something about his demeanor is off. 

He throws his flannel on the chair and with his back facing you, runs his hand through his hair. When he turns to you, there’s no warm smile or cheerful greeting. Instead, he takes a few steps then tosses his keys on the counter, letting them slide carelessly across the surface. He makes no effort to even acknowledge your existence. 

Instantly, a lump forms in your throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. You hate tension… Or any sort of confrontation, really. Your parent’s entire marriage was built off tension and confrontation– passive aggressive comments and slamming doors leading to screaming, which then led to shattered dishes or dented walls. 

Your father had a temper. And it didn't matter how well behaved or helpful or unseen you were. Something always managed to spark his anger. The nights he drank were worse, and as the years went on, the sober version of himself made less and less of an appearance. 

Although you didn't recognize it at the time, looking back, you knew that you spent the vast majority of your childhood living on edge– always waiting for the yelling or the screaming. You were afraid more often than not. And that wasn't something you could just unlearn when you were old enough to leave– no matter how far away you were.  

In fact, it took years of hard work to heal from the trauma you'd experienced. But for so long, it felt like no matter how much therapy you attended or self-help books you read, there was always a part of you that was just stuck. 

Until you met Niall. 

Niall was the missing piece. His presence alone was healing. He was calm and safe and consistent. He was patient and gentle and kind. And when you finally got up enough courage to tell him about your childhood, he listened carefully, his brows furrowed somberly. It was like your trauma caused him physical pain– that's how much he loved you– how much he felt with you. 

With Niall, you could safely work on communicating without screaming matches or slamming doors. It had taken time, but slowly, piece by piece, you started to rebuild, until you actually felt like you could trust someone again. 

And of course, even now, in the midst of whatever this unknown territory was, you trust him. But despite that, tension is radiating off from him. It’s almost palpable in the air– suffocating you. 

You have to say something– Niall will understand. 

“How was your day?” You ask nervously, already knowing the answer. 

Niall walks right past you to the fridge, pulling the door open and ignoring your question.  

You bite your lower lip, your anxiety settling like a rock in your stomach. This feeling felt too familiar… 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. He pulls out a beer, showing no sign that he even heard you. He cracks it open, the sound alone sending shivers down your spine as you’re instantly reminded of all the nights your father would drink five beers before even recognizing you were home. But Niall is not your dad, you remind yourself. Niall is gentle. Niall is kind. 

He takes a long swig before walking towards the stairs.

“Niall?” you say, worry evident in your tone. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Niall isn't like him. Niall cares about your feelings. Niall loves you.

You follow him a few steps, knowing that you can’t let him just go to bed this… angry? Upset? Whatever he is– 

“Niall, what’s going on–”

“Oh my God!” He bellows suddenly, waving his arms and spinning in his tracks to finally look at you. “Can you leave me alone for one goddamn second?!”

Before you can quiet down your brain or repeat all the ways Niall was different from your father, your body reacts as if they are one and the same. You flinch harshly from his sudden movements and loud tone, like your body remembered exactly how it felt to live in your house twenty years ago. And before you can help it, the glass cup in your hand falls to the floor, shattering around your feet. 

The noise makes you snap out of your trance. Looking down at the mess you made, your mouth goes dry. Your whole body has already begun shaking and you can feel the tears fighting their way to your eyes. 

“I’m sorry–” you whisper, choking back a sob. Then you brace for the screaming– the berating. Clumsy, stupid, idiot. 

Nervously, you kneel down, tucking your hair behind your ear while you try to pick up the broken glass. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s obvious Niall had a bad day. So why couldn’t you just leave him alone? The last thing he needs is you making and being a mess. 

“Sorry–“ you mutter, it’s so quiet though, you doubt he hears. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. You’re so anxious you don’t even grab a dustpan, you just start collecting pieces of shattered glass in your hand. Your vision quickly becomes blurry with tears as they streak down your cheeks. 

“Shit,” you vaguely hear, but you don’t stop trying to clean up. You’re frantic, grabbing whatever you can off the floor before he can get more upset about it. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Through your clouded vision, you can’t see what you’re collecting off the floor– all you know is that you have to keep cleaning it up.

“Baby, stop–”  

The voice is distant.

“I promise I’ll clean it up,” you say, hands shaking so violently, you wonder how no pieces have sliced open your skin yet. 

“Baby–” 

It’s just background noise. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” 

You vaguely see a figure kneel beside you and before you can wave him away, Niall reaches out– hand cupping yours before forcing open your fingers. As soon as the glass is out of your hand, you see him reach up to toss it on the counter before kneeling back down to be on your level. 

All it takes is one arm wrapping around your shoulders for you to break. Suddenly, you can’t hold back the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. The second it escapes from your lips, Niall pulls you into his chest tightly. 

“C’mere,” he exhales, chin resting on your head while he slides the both of you back against the cupboard. You let out a choked gasp and cling to him. 

His arm winds tightly around you, locking you in place. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes.  

“I have to clean it up–” you cry.  

“Shh,” he soothes. He rocks you on the floor like that, his arms wrapped around you securely.  Your breathing is choppy as you shake against him. Niall grabs your bicep with his hand, holding you steady while his thumb rubs up and down your bare skin gently, trying to calm you down. 

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to feel like you can think again. Time stands still as you settle into his embrace. Niall’s embrace– you remind yourself. Not your father’s. Because your father wouldn’t embrace you after yelling like that. And he certainly wouldn’t embrace you after you broke a dish. 

After a while, your breathing gradually returns to normal again. Moments later, you feel him shift. “Did you cut yourself?” he asks carefully. 

He supports the majority of your weight, all but lifting you off the floor before scanning the length of you. 

You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you did. 

Niall nods before reaching his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get away from the glass.”

You take it willingly, sighing as you feel the warmth from his palm spread through your hand. He guides you away from the pile of glass and towards the kitchen island. He helps you settle into one of the tall stools. 

“Hey,” you hear him whisper. But you’re still staring at the mess, so worried about cleaning it up. Until you feel firm, but careful hands cupping each side of your face– forcing your attention to shift towards him. “Hey,” he repeats. 

His calloused thumb trails along your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re leaning into his touch, craving his comfort. 

“Did you cut yourself?” he asks again, clearly not trusting your earlier response. 

To be fair– you’re not even sure that you trust your earlier response. By now, you feel like you’re actually back in your own body, and feel no pain. So you shake your head, this time more convincingly.  

As soon as you give the confirmation that you’re alright, Niall takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your shoulders, crashing his body against yours.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says, lips ghosting against the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

You nod into his shirt, pinching the fabric between your fingers and breathing in the smell of him. Niall is not your dad, you repeat. Niall apologizes. Niall loves you. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, you were slightly more calm. “I’m sorry I was so annoying– I’m sorry I broke the glass.”

You feel Niall shake his head above you. “No–” he says firmly. “I don’t give a shit about the glass. I had a shitty day,” he sighs. “A really shitty day. But that’s not your fault.”

“I should have just given you space.”

He shakes his head again, pulling back from his embrace to look at you earnestly. “No– We’re supposed to talk about things. I promised you I’d always talk to you about things, and I broke that today.”

He brushes a few loose strands of hair from your face, before wiping some stray tears stuck under your eyes. “I know how much yelling activates you– I know it sets you off, and I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re allowed to get annoyed,” you remind him. “And angry. You’re allowed to yell.” 

“That’s not how you and I communicate,” he says. “That’s not ever how I want to communicate, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time”

Squeezing him tighter, you nod against his chest. 

Because Niall is not your father and you believe him.

[caelesjjk]

simply meant to be | jjk

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be ☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader ☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut ☾ Rating: m (18+) ☾ WC: 4.6K ☾ Warnings: this is not your average nightmare before christmas, its pretty dark and unhinged. jungkook is jack skellington. reader is somewhat of a sally character. jungkook calls you immortelle (it means everlasting), jungkook has face tattoos (you'll see), monsters, fear, seokjin appearing as Dr. Finkelstein hehe, electrocution therapy, being held against will, jungkook unalives someone, a game of cat and mouse, mentions of blood, smut in the forms of: kissing, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, creampie ☾ Summary: you aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man. You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are. But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want. ☾ Authors Note: hello darklings! Please enjoy my trick for the Fantasy and Fangs halloween collab! this fic became so much more unhinged than i originally planned lol. it may not be for everyone! just e sure to check my warnings before you proceed with the fic. this is heavily unedited.

Your body jolts upright, lungs immediately gasping for breath.

Panic surges through every nerve as you frantically look around at your surroundings and grasping at the thin sheet you find bunched around your hips. 

You’re naked. God why are you naked? How did you get here? Where the fuck are you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look next to you in bed and see that someone is lying next to you. A broad back and muscular arms covered in tattoos leading up to a head of messy black hair that covers the persons face lies snoring quietly against the sheets.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping the thin sheet around your body as you scramble out of the bed. The man lying in the bed stirs slightly and reaches into the space where your body once was. 

You don’t wait to see anything else, dashing for the bedroom door and stumbling into the very dark hallway. The only light comes from the cobweb covered candle sconces that line the black painted walls. 

You adjust the sheet around you the best you can before taking off running down the hallway. There is an immediate feeling that you’re being watched and you make the mistake of turning around to look behind you. 

The dark shadowy silhouette of a man stands where you had just been a moment ago. You beg your feet to move faster.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back over your shoulder once more to see what you can only describe as a jack o lantern grin light up and stretch across the face of the man taking his time moving towards to you down the hallway.

“Where are you going, immortelle?”

A voice comes into your mind and almost causes you to fall face first down the winding spiral staircase in front of you.

“Please leave me alone.” You beg as you rush down the stairs. You don’t make it far before you suddenly feel hands gripping at your ankles. Hands with claws….some covered with slime…reaching from under the stairs and tearing at the sheet keeping your naked body from being exposed.

You scream until your throat hurts. Kicking at the hands as you continue to fight your way down the stairs.

“You know how much I love chasing you, baby.”

Somehow you manage to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but you almost wish that you hadn’t when you fall against the front door and throw it open.

You must be hallucinating with fear.

Outside the sky is black and grey swirls of clouds in constant motion, you know if you stared too long you’d become dizzy. Instead, your eyes wonder around to the bare trees surrounding the house you just made your way out of. Just a few leaves hang on for dear life as the wind quite literally howls through the air.

Down the crooked stone steps in front of you is a huge iron gate with two giant pumpkin designs bent into the bars. Gargoyles sit atop every stone post surrounding the house. 

Wasting no more time, you descend the stairs until you’ve reached the iron gate, shaking the bars when it doesn’t budge.

“Please open. Please.” You shove with your shoulder as hard as you can and the gate loudly creaks open just enough for you to squeeze out into the open street. 

You turn around and shove the gate back shut, looking up at the top of the stairs where the man who had been chasing you through the house now stands with a smile on his half tattooed face and his arms crossed over his bulky bare chest.

You can see even from here that the tattoos on the left side of his face are skull like features. It’s absolutely terrifying.

He lifts a hand in a wave as he menacingly tilts his head to the side and smiles.

Fuck this.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you and take off down the street without a single clue as to where you are. Anywhere has to be better than where you just were.

You spoke too soon again.

The sight in front of you as you round the corner is just as terrifying as that house and that man.

There are monsters, literal monsters, standing in the streets. Selling items at market booths. Chasing their children on the sidewalks. Laughter…and screams. It’s a terrible mix of sounds.

You freeze as a bouncy ball belonging to what you can only assume is a swamp monster child rolls against your feet.

“Happy first day after Halloween Ms Y/N!” The little creature says, staring at you expectantly.

Your instincts tell you not to scream. If you scream it will only make things worse.

“You know my name?” Your voice shakes and so do your hands as you continue holding the blanket around your body.

“Are you alright, miss?” The child’s mother appears behind him, looking at you with concern.

“I um…I should go.” Your bare feet move to cross the street, making you pause when you step in something wet. You know that it’s blood before you even look down. Vomit threatens to fill your mouth but you continue walking away, dragging the train of the sheet you’re wearing through more of the bloody streets.

More monsters stare at you as you go. Some with long sharp teeth and claws that could easily slice through a normal humans delicate skin. Some walked on two feet and some slithered across the ground like sickly serpents. 

“Are you lost?” A horrifying witch grabbed your arm and tried to pull you back into the street.

“No, no I’m just on my way somewhere.” You lie the best you can, yanking your arm away only to immediately see deeps scratches from her long nails.

“So sorry miss.” She cackles, moving to join two other witches who were waiting for her on the other side of the street. They all continued their uneasy laughing until you turned the corner up ahead.

As you turned the corner you ran hard into something. Or someone it would appear when you looked up.

“What are you doing out here in nothing but a blanket, Y/N?” The man asks, pushing a pair of glasses up onto his nose.

This man had stitches across his forehead and down around his neck. Like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster, he’s been sewn together.

“Do I know you? Why does everyone here know my name?” You step back to put space between you and the monster.

“Ah, I see. Come with me.” He turns and begins walking but stops when you don’t follow. “I can help you. Come.” He holds out a hand, and while you don’t know what the fuck is happening, something tells you it’s okay to trust this stranger. 

You take his hand.

“Who are you?” You finally ask.

“I’m a friend. Dr. Kim Seokjin.” He swings your hands between you in a silly way. “You usually call me Jin. Sometimes Jinnie.”

“Jin.” You repeat, the name feeling familiar on your tongue. “Where are we going?”

“To my lab. I have things that can help you there.” Jin turns another corner and up ahead you can see a tall crooked tower looming in the distance.

“Your lab is in there?” 

“It is. Don’t worry Y/N, I promise you’re safe with me.”

You swallow hard but continue to let Jin lead you inside the tower and up, up, up the long spiraling stairs until you reach a door that he slides open.

Inside is a room filled with equipment and various experiments. Glass beakers filled with colorful liquid bubble and burble over small open flames. Sparks fly from wires that connect to different machines and some that connect to nothing at all. There are also several control panels at the center of the room with gurneys situated next to them.

“What kind of doctor are you, Jin?” Your voice shakes a little.

“The helpful kind.” He answers with a menacing grin on his face and a flicker of something slightly insane in his eyes.

“Wh-what do you have here that can help me?” You look down at the dirty blanket still wrapped around your body.

“First,” he grabs your hand again and leads you to a side room that has a cot with some folded clothes lying on top of it, “you can use those clothes to change into, okay? Whatever you want.” 

“Thank you.” You step into the small room and turn to face him. “Is something really wrong with me? Something that makes me not remember?”

“Everything is fixable. I’ll have you as good as new in no time.” Jin winks and closes the door behind him so that you can change in private.

You dress in a daze, still feeling very off kilter from everything that’s unfolded from the moment you opened your eyes. Flashes of the man you woke up next too and his terrifying tattooed face race across your memory and leave chills over your skin.

“Ready now?” Jin calls from outside the door. You take a deep breath and walk back out into the laboratory. “Why don’t you take a seat on one of those?” He motions to the gurneys at the center of the room.

Reluctantly, you walk over to them and sit on the thin mattress. It crumples under your weight and immediately sends a sense of dread swimming into your veins.

“How can you fix me?” You barely get the sentence out before Jin is next to you, situating your arms at your sides and wrapping leather straps around your wrists. “What are you doing?” Panic thick in your voice.

“This is how we fix you. Bite this.” He puts a leather strap up to your mouth.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this. Let me go!” You pull against the restraints, thrashing your head and body in an attempt to get the fuck away.

“I know it’s a little frightening. You do this every time. One of your only flaws.” Jin shakes his head, sounding disappointing.

“Flaws? What are you talking about!?” 

“You’re my creation. I made you.” He tilts his head and smiles, “and you’re absolutely perfect except for that mind of yours. It resets. Forgets.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Creation?! I’m a human being! I’m not some experiment! What is wrong with you?” Hot tears starts to leak from the corners of your eyes and blur your vision.

“You’re so adorable sometimes.” Jin yanks on your restraints to tighten them, “sit still, Y/N.” 

“You’re hurting me.” You whimper.

“You think that hurts?” Jin smiles before he begins sticking sticky pads to your head and neck. “Just wait.” He whispers into your ear.

You’re such an idiot to have trusted this monster. You were so sure that he was good. A friend. He felt like a friend when you saw him. Familiar.

“Please…don’t.” You beg just before he forcefully shoves the piece of leather between your teeth.

“You’ll thank me soon.”

Terror freezes your body as you watch him slam down a lever on one of the control tables, green electric waves traveling down the wires and entering your body in trembling shocks.

You don’t know how long you lay there, screaming through the pain before you pass out from how much electricity Jin lets pass into your body. But eventually the room goes black and the last thing you hear is Jin manically laughing from across the room.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I tweaked some things this time. I’m hopeful it lasts longer.”

“It better. I’m tired of losing her.”

You hear quiet voices as you begin to come to. Voices that you recognize almost immediately.

“Jungkook?” Your voice croaks. Almost immediately the door to the small room slides open and the silhouette of the only person you want to see fills the doorway.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” Jungkook rushes into the room and kneels next to the cot you’re laying on.

“What happened to me? Why am I in Jinnie’s lab?” You turn your head to face him when he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“You had another episode, my sweet.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.

“Episode?” Your brows draw together in confusion.

“You forgot who you were. That you belong to me. You forgot it all.” Jungkook looks sad while he explains and it breaks your heart.

“How could I forget you?” You sit up slowly and he helps you. “How could I forget my love?”

“It’s not your fault, immortelle. Don’t blame yourself.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Jin who stands in the doorway. Jin rolls his eyes before walking away.  

“Take me home?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck when he picks you up into his arms bridal style.

“Of course.” 

Jungkook carries you down the long winding staircase of the laboratory and outside where it’s pitch black besides the white melting candles inside the lamp posts along the street.

A smile pulls across your face when you see all the monsters that you love busy in the streets. They all smile back at you, tossing greetings and wishes of quick recoveries your way.

“They love you.” Jungkook whispers into your ear.

“No. They love you, you’re their pumpkin king. I’m just lucky enough to be yours.” You touch the skull details tattooed on the side of his face so he looks at you.

“You’ll be their queen soon.” He reminds you. You lean up to kiss his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I’m famished.” Jungkook sits you on your feet but keeps your hand in his.

Jungkook talks with some of the shop owners and you watch as he gathers all of your favorite things into a basket. Wines, cheeses, and some sweet treats leftover from the night before. You love him so.

You make your way over to a stand selling haunted dolls and look around at all the choices. You’re about to go back to find Jungkook when someone grabs your arm and twists you around.

“You’re so pretty.” The drunken vampire says, the smell of blood thick on his breath. He’s had too much.

“I appreciate your compliment, but I need you to let go of my arm.” You pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t be that way. Come with me.” He stumbles and almost falls on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You say louder but the vampire doesn’t listen, it’s nails scratching through your skin. You’re about to scream for Jungkook when he’s suddenly there, ripping the vampires hand from your arm.

“May I ask what you think you’re doing? Touching what’s mine?” Jungkook says too calmly.

“I…I didn’t recognize Ms. Y/N…I didn’t realize.” The vampire stumbles over his words.

“Is that your excuse?” Jungkook laughs, the terrifying cackling sound sending tingles through your body.

You know what’s going to happen next, and the thrill alone has you aching between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never make the mistake again.” The vampire takes a few steps back.

“Immortelle?” Jungkook looks over his shoulder to you. He’s asking a silent question that you already know the answer to. You nod yes as a smile spreads across your face.

“Remember in your next life my friend, to keep your filthy hands off my girl.” Before you can blink his hand is shooting out between them and into the vampires chest cavity. He holds it there a moment so that he can watch the life drain slowly drain from the vampire before he yanks his hand back out holding the still thumping heart in his hand.

The vampire falls to the ground in a lifeless heep, his eyes still open and eternally full of the fear he last experienced. The crowd around the market doesn’t take offense, they know if their pumpkin kills someone it was for a damn good reason.

Jungkook turns towards you, handing the heart to one of the children playing with the body on the ground. He pats their head and then slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a thick stripe from the bloody palm of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, all while keeping eye contact with you.

You smile, closing the space between the two of you and claiming his mouth. Your tongue seeks out the blood that’s dropped down his chin and around his lips.

“It never gets old…watching you kill for me.” You breathe into his mouth while his blood hands lace into the strands of your hair.

“We need to get home before I show everyone here how well I fuck you.” His mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck as he leads you backwards down the street until your back hits the iron bars of a familiar gate.

Home.

The gate loudly creaks open as soon as it realizes the two of you have arrived. Jungkook stops kissing you to take your hand and walks with you up the stone stairs to the front door that also opens all on its own, the door knocker welcoming you home.

“Do you want to play?” You whisper, making Jungkook pause at the bottom of the stairs. Those tattooed details raising into a smile.

“Okay, immortelle. Let’s play.” He kisses the top of your hand before taking a step back. He slowly slips of his black and white striped suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt before it joins the jacket on the floor.

You soak in the tattooed planes of his body, the muscles begging to be touched. His dark falling over his forehead as he steps back farther into the shadows until he’s completely disappeared from your sight.

“You know what happens if I catch you, immortelle.” His voice floats into your ear from somewhere unknown. “Don’t let me catch you.” 

A thrill shoots through your body again and you sprint for the stairs, loving the way the monsters and ghouls grab at your ankles and whisper your name. You immediately turn left at the top of the stairs, your mind going a million miles an hour trying to think of where you could hide.

He knows all of the good places for hiding.

In a last ditch idea, you run into your shared bedroom upon hearing Jungkook’s footsteps running up the stairs. He took this game of chase so seriously and never took it slowly.

You slide under the bed, your chest heaving in fear but also excitement. You’re hoping by hiding somewhere obvious that he won’t even think to look here and waste his time checking all of the usual spots you tend to hide.

“Where are you, immortelle?” You hear his menacing voice out in the hallway coming closer. You almost giggle. “You know I’ll find you. I will always find you.”

You hear his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door and then the door slowly opens right after, lightly hitting against the wall behind it. 

Jungkook’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak as he walks into the room. You throw a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noises. Jungkook undoes the buckle of his belt and a moment later slips it from his belt loops and lets it clang against the hardwood floor.

“Are you soaked for me right now, my love?” You watch with wide eyes as Jungkook slowly walks around the bed. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when you look around at the floor you notice that he’s no longer next to the bed, his black boots no longer anywhere in sight. You release a long breath of relief.

And then you’re being yanked by the ankle from beneath the bed, a startled scream escaping you as you flip onto your back just in time to see Jungkook trap you with his body against the floor.

“You caught me.” You smile, lifting your hips up to meet his, desperate for friction against your core.

“Don’t I always?” His mouth is on yours, his hands pushing your dress up around your hips.

He was desperate for you too.

“I love you.” You whisper on his lips, the tattooed skeleton grin on his beautiful face turning upwards.

Jungkook sits up on his knees between your legs giving you a full view of his naked torso. Pretty muscles and flawless skin that you ached to leave your mark on. Scratches and bite marks and bruises were the only things that could make him more perfect.

Your chest heaves as you watch him reach behind his back in the band of his black dress pants to retrieve a silver shiny knife. Your pulse quickens immediately.

“Is this what you want, immortelle?” He presses the cold steel flat against the inside of your thigh, keeping the blade from cutting you just yet.

“Will you torture me?” You ask, your hands coming up to cup your breasts with anticipation.

“Absolutely.” Jungkook moves the knife farther up your skin until the point brushes over underwear. You moan pathetically at the feel of it brushing over your center and slowly sliding over onto your other thigh.

“Jungkook…” you sigh.

“Be patient. I’ll give you what you want.” Jungkook uses his other hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down until his perfect cock springs free from the confines.

You bite your lip at the sight in front of you. Jungkook slowly strokes himself to the sight of the knife moving across your skin. He draws the sharp side of the blade oh so gently across your stomach, so sharp you don’t even feel it draw blood. The view of you on display for him makes him groan and move his hand a bit rougher up and down his shaft. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, slipping through the small pool of blood on your stomach and moving them back over your breasts to smear the crimson liquid in a trail.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so perfect.” Jungkook moves the knife to your throat, gently leaving one long cut from one side to the other. You immediately feel warm blood leave the wound and drip down the sides of your neck.

Jungkook drops the knife to the floor and bends over your body to attach his mouth to your neck. He licks and sucks at your blood, whimpering at the taste of it on his tongue. Your body instinctively arches from the ground, your chest rubbing against his and spreading more of your blood between your bodies. It was the most beautiful visual you could imagine.

You looked down between your bodies to see Jungkook’s hand still stroking his cock as he continues to move his mouth down your body to the cut on your stomach. You can barely stand the burn in the pit of your stomach any longer, your desire for the man on top of you smoldering too hot.

“I need you now. Please.” You lace your hands into Jungkook’s hair and lift his face. The sight of his face covered in your blood, his eyes solid black with lust almost does you in completely.

“Such a good girl, saying please.” He moves back onto his knees, squeezing precum from the head of his cock before he releases it completely and picks the knife back up off the floor. You watch in awe as he brings it to his mouth and licks the blood from the blade.

“I always want to be good for you.” You say sweetly. His cock twitches at the sound of your obedient voice.

Jungkook moves the knife down between your legs and ever so carefully pressed the sharp blade to your underwear and drags it down until the fabric slices apart and reveals your absolutely drenched pussy to him. The knife clangs to the floor again and Jungkook leans back down to claim your mouth, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

Your lips part to moan and his tongue swipes against yours swallowing up all the sounds that escape you. The dripping head of his cock suddenly swipes through your folds and causes a high pitched whine to bubble up your throat.

“Is your pussy desperate to be filled, immortelle?” His hand swipes the blood on your stomach before it’s back on his cock, the blood lubing his shaft to make it easier when he fucks himself into you.

“Yes. It hurts, Jungkook.” You let your hands wander his chest and stomach, watching him watch you.

“I’m not going to last long once I get inside your perfect pussy, my love. But I need you to cum and I need you to scream.” Without warning he roughly spears himself inside you, his hands holding you on his cock as you writhe from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, rough and hard.

“Made for me. I literally had you made just for me and you’re perfect. So fucking perfect and pliant just for me.” Jungkook’s hand comes down to your throat, careful of the cut across your skin, he gently tightens his grip.

You immediately see stars, wrapping both of your hands around his wrist to keep him in place. You gasp and moan at the feeling of him controlling your breathing and ruining your pussy at the same time. 

“I’m going to come. God I’m coming right now.” The words are quiet as he continues to hold your throat but he hears you just fine, moving his hand from your throat to play with your clit.

“Scream. I need you to scream so I can fill you up.” You open your eyes to see Jungkook watching you, his hair sweaty and mouth parted. Just when you’re about to beg for a kiss he punches your clit between his fingers and your orgasm rolls through you like a hurricane.

Black and white sparks explode behind your eyes and though you can’t hear yourself, you know that you scream loud and high pitched. Just what Jungkook needs to find his own end, dropping on top of you as he continues to fill you past the brim and onto your thighs.

Dried blood scratches between your skin and his as he lies on top of you, his head against your chest and your hands roaming the expanse of his broad shoulders. 

“You’re okay, immortelle?” He finally asks through his heavy breathing.

“I am, of course.” You lift his face to place a kiss to his lips.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed this time.” He laughs lightly, groaning as he pulls out and helps you sit up with him.

“I didn’t mind.” You both smile knowing he feels the same.

“I’ll never mind being with you, immortelle. Never.” He touches your cheek and kisses your lips once more.

“Even if…even if I keep forgetting?” 

“Even then. We are simply meant to be, my love.”

[pure-smut]

iron wall.

featuring: Takanobu Aone x f!reader

contains: some angst to fluff to smut, happy ending!!, tattoo artist!Aone, social anxiety!reader, thigh riding, fingering(ish), missionary, NOT an accurate representation of getting a tattoo (call it creative liberties)

word count: 3.7k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

Masterlist

a/n: I'm sorry, I love Aone so much, he's so babygirl!! I'm a sucker for a gentle giant so I needed to get this story down I love him

You’re so excited for your first tattoo. So excited you could throw up, in fact. Oh wait, no, you’re terrified.

The tattoo studio does nothing to soothe your nerves. It’s a small space, seeming all the more cramped for artwork covering every inch of wall and shelf space. You try your hardest not to shrink into yourself.

And then your tattoo artist steps out and a year of social aversion therapy dwindles into nothing.

Takanobu Aone is one of the best artists in the country and you’ve been so, so lucky to get a spot with him. You researched hard, not trusting your first tattoo in the hands of anyone less than perfect. When you saw Aone’s portfolio online, you knew he was the one. Beautiful linework and sweeping designs that seemed to mould to the person’s body. You fell in love with his art.

But his portfolio didn’t have any pictures of him. So when he steps out and greets you with a silent nod, you nearly shrivel up on the spot.

Aone is scary. He’s tall, broad, and – unsurprisingly – coated in tattoos. A seemingly permanent frown is etched on his face, his ice blonde hair cut short. But it’s his eyes – it’s like he’s glaring at you.

“Sorry,” you squeak out before internally scolding yourself.

Sorry?? What are you apologising for? No one’s said anything yet!

If Aone’s confused, he doesn’t show it. He only gestures to an intimidating-looking chair, fitted with an overhead lamp.

Your hands shake so you clench them into fists. You can do this, you tell yourself. This was the whole point of your tattoo. On wobbly legs, you make your way over to the chair and sit down.

Aone looks down at you. You look back up at him. When neither of you says anything, he twirls his finger in the air.

“Oh!”

Idiot, you think to yourself. It’s a back tattoo – he needs to see my back.

You turn around, your chest pressed against the back of the chair, as Aone sits behind you. Even without seeing him, his presence is so large that you feel it. You take a shuddering breath as you hear the buzz of the needle and squeeze your eyes shut.

The tattoo hurts, like a relentless, stinging scratch against your skin. But honestly? You thought it would be worse. Still, the nerves haven’t dissipated yet, and nausea swirls in your stomach. Especially when you feel Aone’s hands on your skin, resting against your back as he works.

“You’re doing well.”

Aone’s voice is so sudden and unexpected that you nearly jump. It takes a second for you to register what he’s said but when you do, warmth rushes to your cheeks.

“Th-thanks,” you stammer out.

“Will music help you to relax?”

His voice is deep and smooth. You’re glad you’re facing away from him because you don’t want him to see the blush in your cheeks just from listening to him speak.

You tell him your favourite songs and he sets up a playlist. By the time he starts up the tattoo again, you are feeling more relaxed. It helps that you don’t need to look him in the face, that you don’t need to mould your reactions to what you think is right. Every so often, Aone will let you know how well you’re sitting for him and each time, it makes your body feel like it’s on fire.

By the time he’s finished, you’re nearly dizzy.

Aone must notice because he offers his hand to help you stand. You take it, gratefully, but keep your eyes averted, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

“First tattoos are hard,” he says solemnly and you’re glad he thinks it’s the tattoo that’s had an effect on you and not him.

Aone hands you his card as you pay up. It has a list of tattoo care instructions as well as his phone number and socials.

“Any problems, contact me,” he says.

You finally look up at him. What you had thought had been a glare before now looks completely different. Aone’s eyes are sharp but they’re kind, his face serious but concerned. Under the intensity of his gaze, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You want to thank him, to tell him you’ll be happy to contact him if anything comes up. To say anything normal at all.

But an iron wall wraps around your chest. You don’t want to say anything stupid or embarrassing. So you give a short nod and leave without saying anything at all.

*

It’s only a few days before your tattoo starts to itch. You diligently cream it as Aone’s card instructed you but the position of the tattoo means you can’t reach all of it. There’s a patch in the middle that’s neglected and so, so goddamn itchy.

After all the research, effort and money spent, you desperately don’t want your new tattoo to heal badly. But you have no one to ask for help. It’s your own fault, you know. You’ve spent the years since you left home for college isolating yourself from everyone. Too worried about saying the wrong thing or doing something embarrassing. Too concerned over whether people are laughing at you instead of with you.

And now you’re stuck with an itchy tattoo that you can’t fully reach.

Aone’s card sits innocently on your desk, almost taunting you. It takes another two days before you gather up the courage to tap out a message to Aone.

He responds within minutes with instructions to come to the studio.

That’s how you end up back in the chair, your favourite songs playing again, too embarrassed to look behind you at Aone.

“The itch is worse than the pain,” he says, rubbing cool, soothing cream gently over your tattoo.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe it’s your favourite music in the background, maybe it’s the fact you don’t need to look at him. Maybe it’s the feel of his gloved fingers being so gentle on your skin. For once, you don’t overthink before you speak.

“The pain wasn’t so bad after a while,” you say quietly. “But the itching goes on forever.”

Aone chuckles. It catches you off guard – you wonder what he looks like when he’s smiling.

You sit in comfortable silence for a while.

“This is so embarrassing…” you mumble to yourself.

“What is?”

You startle, not realising he heard you. Your cheeks burn.

“O-oh… just… y’know, all of this,” you say clumsily.

“All of what?”

“I-” A lump appears in your throat. You realise how stupid you sound. “I can’t reach my tattoo.”

A puff of air escapes Aone’s nose.

“Not embarrassing,” he says. “I fainted during my first tattoo. That is embarrassing.”

The image of Aone – broad, muscled, serious-faced Aone – fainting during a tattoo is so unexpected you snort with laughter.

“You didn’t!”

“I did,” he says gravely. “I was too nervous to eat breakfast so my blood sugar was low.”

Aone withdraws his hands to lean in close. You can feel the warmth radiating off him on the back of your neck and shoulder. When he speaks, his breath tickles your cheek.

“They had to give me a lollipop.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth. Aone chuckles and stands, snapping his gloves off. You rise with him, still giggling, and get a glimpse of his smile for the first time.

It’s small, just an uptick at the corner of his mouth, but you can’t stop looking.

“Next time you feel embarrassed, remember the lollipop,” Aone says with a firm nod.

You grin, meeting his eyes. Inside you, a small chip skitters down the iron wall.

A crack.

*

Aone tells you to come back every day at the same time for a week, until your tattoo heals. You find yourself looking forward to it and you end up chatting long after he’s finishing creaming your back. You wonder if this is it – you’ve beaten the insecure demon inside your head.

Until one day you don’t.

It’s the last day you’re scheduled to visit Aone’s studio. Maybe that’s the reason why a stab of icy fear lodges itself in your heart every time you try and open the door to leave.

You stand at your front door, key in the lock, but your hand is frozen. Your breathing turns ragged and your vision swims. You can’t turn the key. You can’t leave your home. Your sanctuary. The only safe space you know.

Except Aone’s studio.

Except Aone.

You know you’re going to be late but still, you can’t bring yourself to leave. With shaking hands, you message Aone, apologising and saying you won’t make it. He messages back instantly.

Are you okay?

You don’t know what prompts you to respond honestly. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from fighting the anxiety in your head. Maybe it’s because Aone has always been sincere with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t have to look at him when you respond.

Maybe the iron wall is breaking.

No, you type back.

He asks for your address, saying he’ll come to you. After chewing your thumbnail down to the quick, you give it and throw your phone onto the other side of the bed.

You barely have the energy to drag yourself from your bed when the doorbell rings. You know you should feel embarrassed opening the door in your pyjamas, hair unbrushed and eyes puffy with no sleep. But when Aone steps in, face serious, and pulls out a lollipop, the only thing you feel is relief.

You burst into tears as Aone pulls you into his arms, pressing you against his chest. He’s firm and warm and holds you tight. He doesn’t say anything. He lets you soak the front of his shirt with your tears.

When you’ve cried yourself dry, your sobs dwindling into sniffles, Aone pulls back to peer down at you.

“Food?”

You spend the day with takeout, watching movies together on your laptop in bed. You sneak glances at him every so often, admiring his profile, and have to quickly look away every time he notices. It should be embarrassing… but you know he’s looking at you too. You can feel his intense gaze when you’re watching the movie, can feel him watching you when you get up to go to the bathroom.

When you return, instead of lying side-by-side, you turn your back to him, pulling the laptop in front of you. Aone turns to spoon you, wrapping one large arm around your stomach. You melt into him, immediately relaxed.

It reminds you of being in his chair, faced away from him but knowing he’s there.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice nearly drowned out by the movie. “I know I get too nervous and say weird stuff.”

“What weird stuff?” You can’t see him but you can hear the frown in his voice.

“Like…” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Like when I first met you, I didn’t even say hi. I said sorry, for some weird reason.”

Your mouth goes dry as you recall your first embarrassing memory with Aone. The one that still keeps you up at night as you replay it, thinking about how awkward you looked and how weird he must think you are.

“That wasn’t weird,” Aone says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “People think I’m scary. They don’t sit next to me on the train and they apologise when they meet me.”

You blink at the laptop, twisting slightly so you can look at Aone. He looks back at you.

“They do?”

He nods.

“You’re not weird. You’re normal.”

Aone says it with absolute sincerity. You think on this for a moment before fully turning, facing him. Aone settles his hand on your waist, his sharp eyes locked on yours.

You’re normal.

A rush of relief floods through you and your eyes water, nearly bursting into tears again. Aone notices because he tightens his grip on you, his hand on standby to brush away any tears.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m okay.”

And it’s true. It’s the most okay you’ve felt in a long time. A flood of affection clouds your mind and you look up at him to smile.

“Thank you for rescuing me today,” you tell him.

“Always,” Aone says seriously.

It’s only one word but it steals your breath. You feel like you’re falling. You grip onto the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself.

One word and your iron wall crumbles.

You tilt your head up until Aone’s face is only inches from yours. You’re offering yourself up, offering your heart on a platter, open and vulnerable. You close your eyes and wait, blood rushing in your ears.

Aone moves his hand up from your waist to cup your face. His skin is hot against yours and you can feel his heart beating through his chest.

“Always,” he whispers once more before he closes the gap between you.

Aone presses his lips softly against yours. Your hands snake around his torso, feeling the hard muscle of his back. His lips part yours gently, cautiously, wary not to pressure you too much. You let him, meeting his tongue with your own and melting into him.

Aone uses one arm to wrap around your back, pulling your body flush to him as his other hand grips your thigh. He tugs your leg over his, nestling his thick thigh between your legs, and pressing against your mound. You gasp lightly into his mouth.

Aone pulls back, eyes opening.

“Is this okay?” he asks, searching your face for any sign you’re uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “It’s… it feels good.”

You try hard not to grind against his thigh but when he leans down to kiss you again, you find your hips moving on their own. His firm muscle pressed against your clothed pussy makes your clit throb with need. You haven’t felt this turned on by anyone in a long time, your sex drive long since evaporated. But Aone is awakening something inside you, a heat in your stomach unfurling.

You hold onto his shoulder, solid as a rock, and grind against his thigh.

Aone trails his hand down to your hip, his grip gentle but firm.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, reluctant to break the kiss.

“Mhmm.” You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth. “I’m sure.”

Aone hardens his grip on your hip, guiding you as you rub your clothed pussy against his thigh. The friction is delicious, sending little sparks up through your body and soaking the crotch of your panties and pyjama shorts. You’re forced to break the kiss to bury your face in his chest, whimpering.

He’s bringing you close to the edge, so, so close. But it’s not enough.

“More,” you practically beg him. “I need more. Please.”

Aone grunts and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. He’s large enough that you’re spread lewdly beneath him, thighs open. It would normally make you flustered – embarrassed – but it doesn’t.

Because it’s okay. It’s Aone.

He looks at your with stars in his eyes as his hand reaches down, sliding under the waistband of your shorts and panties. Your hips buck as his fingers find your swollen clit, slippery with your arousal. He traces small, featherlight touches around your sensitive bud. Aone knows his own strength and he’s always cautious of being too rough. He watches your face carefully to see your reaction, applying slightly more pressure until your nails sink into his biceps.

“There!” you gasp. “Fuck, right there. I’m so close.”

Aone listens, his cock straining against his jeans. You would normally feel your cheeks burn under the intensity of anyone’s gaze, let alone Aone’s, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure he’s giving you to care. His fingers are relentless, keeping up a steady pace, no faster or slower than exactly what you need.

When your back arches and your mouth falls open, Aone dips his head to swallow your moan, kissing you deeply through your orgasm, his fingers never stopping. It’s only when you pull away, too sensitive to continue, that he withdraws his hand.

But he can’t stop kissing you. Your soft lips and the taste of the lollipop he brought you still on your tongue. Aone knows you’ve opened yourself to him, he knows you’ve summoned every ounce of courage you have. He feels like he has a baby bird in his hands and he’s scared to hold you too tight. To crush the precious thing you’ve given him.

So when you come down from your high, he makes to roll off you, not thinking of himself or his throbbing cock.

You stop him, hands on his biceps and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice hoarse from moaning. “All of you.”

Aone searches your face for any uncertainty. He only sees your eyes alight, holding his gaze firmly. He thinks back to your first arrival in his studio, when he couldn’t even tell what your face really looked like, you kept your eyes so averted. The corner of his mouth upticks with pride.

You reach up to wrap one hand around the nape of his neck, carding your fingers through his short, white-blonde hair as your other hand reaches down to his jeans. He helps you unbutton them, tugging them down along with his boxers and throwing them both off the side of the bed. Aone straightens to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. Tattoos decorate his thick torso, artwork following the curves and dips of his body. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not even hiding how absolutely, completely attracted to him you are.

Aone’s expression doesn’t change much but his eyes glint and you know he’s pleased by your reaction. He reaches down, hooking his thumbs under the hem of your pyjama top and tugging it off. He gazes down at you, face soft, his eyes tracing over your body.

You’d normally be fighting the urge to cover yourself but you don’t feel the need to do that with Aone. You want him to look at you.

Aone leans down to pepper soft kisses down your neck, to your breasts. One large hand massages your tit, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s like your nipple is directly connected to your clit, making it throb with every touch. Aone sucks your other nipple, mouth hot against your skin as his teeth lightly graze you. It’s electrifying. You can feel yourself getting wetter, a scorching heat between your legs.

You need him inside you.

You tug on the roots of his hair gently, pulling his face back up to yours. Aone kisses you deep and slow, one hand reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance. You can feel the fat mushroom tip nudging between your folds. You pull your knees up, wrapping your legs around his hips to give him better access.

Aone pulls back from the kiss. You chase his lips with your own but he cups your cheek, holding you away.

“I want to see your face,” he says.

 He locks eyes with you and pushes himself inside.

Your mouth falls open and your brows scrunch in the middle as Aone slides his cock into your tight hole. You’re more than wet enough for him but his cock is as thick as the rest of him, stretching you with a burn that’s half pleasure, half pain. You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as Aone shallowly pumps himself inside you, going a little deeper each time. Each stroke of his cock sets your nerves on fire, sparks running through your whole body to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Holy shit,” you grit out. “You’re – ah! – You’re so b-big.”

“Are you okay?” Aone stops still. “Are you in pain?”

You shake your head, wrapping your legs tighter around him.

“Don’t stop,” you beg him.

He gives a short nod and keeps going, slowly working himself deeper until he’s bottomed out. Aone waits there for a while, letting you adjust to the size of him. You’re desperate for more friction, your pussy clenching him tight.

“You…” He collapses onto his forearms, burying his face in your neck.

His hand tangles in your hair at the back of your head, holding you to him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. “You’re doing so well.”

Aone’s praise sends a thrill up your spine, so reminiscent of the first time you met. He presses his mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I’m going to move, okay?” His voice is hoarse.

You nod and he starts to pull back, keeping his body pressed against yours. It should feel smothering, his large body covering yours, but instead it feels safe. Secure.

Aone keeps a steady pace, not pulling out all the way before thrusting back into you. Your greedy pussy pulling him back in every time, your plush walls squeezing him, not wanting to let him go. His cock rubs against the sensitive spot inside you, the trimmed hair at the base stroking delicious friction against your clit. The combination is indescribable. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to roll back again, your orgasm building faster than you can register.

Aone can feel it. The way your tight pussy gets even tighter, the whimpers you make from the back of your throat, the way your thighs squeeze his hips. He can’t get enough of it. He wants to last as long as possible so he can stay here forever. Stay with you, like this, forever. But the way you’re gripping him, milking his cock, makes it impossible.

“I’m gonna cum, angel,” he groans. “Cum with me.”

His words are enough to tip you over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyes. You cry out his name as your thighs tremble and your toes curl, creaming on his cock. Aone grunts, half-moaning, as buries his cock inside you, thick ropes of cum coating your walls.

You hold him close, not wanting him to leave even as his cock softens inside you. Aone stays where he is, wanting to prolong this moment as long as he can. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, hugging you close to him.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Thank you.”

You smile and catch his lips with your own.

“Always,” you whisper back.

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[ultimate-marysue]

I made some sort of alignment classification based on whether they're impulsive or if they plan ahead for the Batfam. Feel free to correct me (politely please, I'll cry) or to add your opinion. I'm not trying to be super canon, just based on their characters' vibes.

Bruce Wayne: 100% planner. This man could be a Bene Gesserit, plans within plans, and they always work even if they shouldn't (because DC can't have him be wrong). It's like a choose your own adventure, you follow the plan and each time something new happens that is sure to chase things up he pulls a subsection specifically for it. Senior Justice League Members just don't question him anymore no matter what. "You had a contingency for getting invaded by mind controlling ballerina spiders? Yeah, sure, tell us all about it".

Barbara Gordon: she plans around her impulses. She is self aware enough at this point to know she's a bit of a hot head. It is what it is, she's called Batman an Emo Boy's idea of Therapy enough times to his face to know she just can't help herself with some stuff. So instead of working against it she plans around it. In the end, it was her plan all along. Canary thinks she could just hold her tongue, but considering the vigilantes Oracle manages, her experience in planning for these situations is invaluable.

Dick Grayson: Impulsive, not because he can't make plans or because he isn't smart. Quite the opposite. He just has that ADHD dog in him. He would be guiding the Titans through a mission and they'd be thinking "Woah, everything is going according to his plan", meanwhile inside his head is Bear Grylls saying "Improvise, Adapt, Overcome". It's not so much that he comes up with plans on the spot but he ends up changing it along the way because he thought of something better for that specific situation. He may use B's protocols for a general structure but then trusts his instinct to come up with something better on the spot.

Cassandra Cain: Neither. She's not one to be coming up with elaborate schemes but, as much as she relies on her instinct, she's able to stop before jumping. She doesn't need to plan, she knows what works. She observes and then takes the best course of action. When Bruce goes on and on about the importance of planning she just answers "Skill issue" and leaves.

Jason Todd: impulsive planner. This is a man that makes plans, okay? He's theatre kid coded, he needs to know his little monologues by heart. The thing is, he's also very emotional and has the impulse control of a toddler in front of the cookie jar. He can't help himself, he has to punch the asshole and make the witty comeback or he will explode. The outlaws have been grilled to death on the importance of following the plan but then watch him like ten minutes later throw it out the window. They find it both endearing and annoying.

Stephanie Brown: Queen of Chaos. She can plan. She's good at it too btw, she just doesn't want to if she can avoid it. She works best when she's improvising and it drives Bruce and Tim up the walls. They just hate to see women winning. She's the best one out of all of them at turning a mistake to her advantage in a matter of seconds. It's quite impressive.

Tim Drake: Chaotic planner. Everyone is so sure Tim is a mini Bruce and to a certain extent, if you squint your eyes, then yes. But Young Just Us know the truth: his plans are extremely effective but only in the most chaotic way possible. There's the Batman plan, and there's the Red Robin plan, which is like the first one but faster and with more fire. He also has to be periodically reminded to take into account his own wellbeing when making his little schemes.

Duke Thomas: plans on the go. I don't know how else to explain it but it's like those sequences in the Sherlock movies (the ones with RDJ) where he's watching his surroundings and opponents almost in slow-mo till he puts together a plan. It's similar to Dick from the outside, but if you pay attention you can see the wheels turning in his head as he goes along. He actually stops and thinks (metaphorically, most of the time his thinking is done while he distracts enemies).

Damian Al Gul Wayne: he's a strategist, not a planner. This is an important distinction because whenever Batman or Red Robin are explaining one of their convoluted plans he feels like he's actively losing braincells. He's closer to Cassandra in the way he prefers a more direct solution. He also gets palpitations anytime Jason or Stephanie just start doing things without thinking. If he knew what Dick's thought process was he would have probably developed an anxiety disorder in his time as Dick's robin. He doesn't understand the need for such high detail planning and hates the idea of making it along the way. No, he just needs to come up with the most efficient strategy and that's all.

[ravenromanova]

I fucking hate you

Parings: Bucky x Female avenger reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Mean Bucky (only for a little). SMUTTTTT DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18+! Daddy kink, Metal arm kink, Praise kink, Hate fucking, Breeding kink, Unprotected sex, Oral (m and f), Fingering. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE

Summary: When you and Bucky are forced to have a therapy session after a mission gone wrong you two find another way to let the anger out.

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!!

~

The sound of the clock ticking mixed with a pen tapping against a notebook drives you insane as you stare at the wall. It’s been thirty minutes of silence with neither you or Bucky daring to speak first. In your eyes this session was pointless. He was the one who fucked up the mission and yet youre paying for it by having a therapy session with him.

The mission was a simple intel mission… or it should’ve been until Bucky went off the rails and got the both of you captured. Luckily you were able to get yourselves freed before anything bad happened. But nevertheless you were told by Fury and Maria that you two needed to fix the issues between you. Honestly you didn’t hate Bucky as much as you led on but he could be such an insufferable asshole sometimes.

He would constantly pick on you like a small child, belittle your powers and abilities, and not to mention he would constantly ditch you during missions. So since he wanted to be an asshole you decided that being a petty bitch would get him to stop… You were very wrong and that just seemed to make it worse for you.

All in all you were completely infatuated with the super soldier but it was clear he had no interest in you. So you kept up the petty bitch act and that just meant the two of you were constantly at war with one another.

“This is a waste of time, It wasnt even my fault the mission got fucked up so im not even sure why im here.” You state crossing your arms looking at Dr.Raynor.

“The reason youre here y/n is so you and James can work through whatever it is going on in hopes that you two start getting along” The older woman says with a slight shake to her head.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with him if he wasnt such a dick” Your words made Bucky whip his head to look at you with a scowl on his face.

“Oh im the asshole? What about you huh? You’re a fucking pest and not to mention the weakest one on the team” He scoffed looking back at raynor.

“THE WEAKEST ONE? The only thing special about you came from a fucking test tube” You retort feeling yourself about to explode from rage.

“Oh so that’s how we are gonna play this?” He asked cocking his head to the side with a smug smile.

“You act like youre tough shit when in all reality take off the arm and take away the serum then what are you? A amputee with a military background.. You aren’t that special” Your words hit a part of him he didn’t know existed anymore.

“Okay enough you two!” Dr.Raynor said before Bucky had the chance to respond. “This is ridiculous! Throwing insults back and forth wont help whatever is going on between you two” She continued and you and Bucky huffed.

“It definitely makes me feel better knowing miss priss over here gets knocked down a few pegs” He mumbles under his breath.

“Okay that’s it! I’m fucking done. I cant do this shit anymore. You wanna hate me? fine. Guess what? I fucking hate you too” You said standing up abruptly and slamming the door as you exit the room.

Bucky and Dr.Raynor both looked at each other and sighed. “Why cant you just be honest with her?” She asked him making him roll his eyes.

“I dont know what youre talking about” He shakes his head making the older woman groan.

“Dont play dumb James. We both know how you feel about y/n you are just to chicken shit to tell her” She retorts raising her eyebrows at the solider.

“You’re a terrible therapist” He retorts shaking his head at her comment. Yes Bucky was madly in love with you but he didn’t think you’d feel the same after his past and how he’s treated you.

Ever since Bucky had come back from being blipped he found it difficult to readjust to life yet again. So he did what he always did he threw himself into his work. Avenging became the only thing he did day in and day out. He had met you during a meeting when you were introduced as the newest Avenger. You were all bright and bubbly towards everyone even him.

Naturally he avoided you not wanting to taint the sunshine that shined from within. But despite him being a dick to you, you still smiled at him during training, said good morning whenever you saw him in the mornings. You were just always sweet to him for some reason even though he had never shown you kindness. Well that was until six months ago when one day you were just as bitchy to him as he was you.

For some reason that hurt Bucky more than he thought possible. He didn’t think he would miss your sunshiny attitude until it was gone. The two of you started fighting amend arguing over everything for the past six months. The entire team was annoyed by the sudden escalation in you and Bucky’s relationship. Normally he would just be cold to you and that was it. But now you’ve started fighting back which was a surprise to everyone since you were normally so quiet. Bucky missed the ray of sunshine you used to be but he also didn’t want to taint you with his presence.

But nevertheless Bucky kept up his whole thing of messing with you and you started being bitchy right back, which was why the two of you were forced into therapy together.

“Go tell her how you feel James, That’s youre homework for the week” Dr.Raynor said breaking Bucky out of his thoughts.

“And if i dont?” He pushed tilting his head. The woman looked at him then sighed.

“If you dont ill make sure you and Peter are assigned on the same missions for six months” She threatened and Bucky’s eyes widened at the thought of being stuck with parker on missions.

“Okay okay no need to do all that” He said standing up and putting his hands up in defeat. The older woman laughed to herself as she watched Bucky walk out her office.

Bucky had left the office to go and find you but had no luck. He had looked for you in all of your normal spots kitchen, living room, game room, your room but you weren’t there. It wasnt until he decided to check the training room that he had found you. You were at the punching bags hitting them as hard as you could to get out your anger.

“Y/n?” He said softly as he approached you carefully not wanting to startle you. You had turned around to face him with your chest heaving and your face sweaty.

“What Bucky?” Your voice dripped with venom as you spoke. Bucky had ran his hand through his hair sighing a little.

“Look i just wanted to say im sorry” He said and you looked for any hints of sarcasm or anything in his eyes but found none.

“I’m sorry im gonna need you to repeat that” You brought a hand to your ear acting like you didn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I never meant to hurt youre feelings doll” Bucky repeated but this time adding in a nickname that made your heart race.

“i-its okay” You stutter out not really fathoming the fact that Bucky is apologizing or that fact that he used a nickname to address you instead of an insult.

“No its not- i-i just dont know how to handle my emotions properly and i took it out on you when i shouldn’t have” His hands didn’t their way to your hips as he speaks. Your eyes go to his wands on your waist and then back up to him.

“It’s okay Bucky i get it” You say as your hands find their way to his shoulders. Bucky’s flesh hand moved to cup your face as he looked into your eyes making you melt. He slowly rubs his thumb against your cheek making you smile and lean into his touch.

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?” The question comes out shaky when you speak.

“Because it wasnt until you said that you hated me that i realized i fucked up and treated the one person who has never looked at me like a monster like shit. And i couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me.” He said honestly and for the first time you could see genuine emotion in his eyes.

“And whys that?” You ask stepping a little closer to him with a small smile.

“Because im in love with you” Bucky admits bringing you into a passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss earning a small groan from him. The two of you get so wrapped up in each other you forget to come up for air.

“I-I love you too” You admit after you catch your breath making him smile. Bucky then picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He then carries you out of the training room and takes you to his.

When he brings you back to his room he lays you down on the bed before getting on top of you. He slots himself between your legs as he brings you in for another heated kiss. You moan into the kiss as you feel his hands roam all over your body. Bucky’s hands find the hem of your shorts and pull them down your thighs not breaking the kiss.

“Please” You whisper against his lips feeling his metal hand graze your dripping core. He sits on his knees and takes off you shirt then bra before sucking on your nipple. You throw your head back in pleasure letting out a moan.

“Oh fuck” Bucky takes his metal hand and finds his way in your panties and starts playing with your clit. “Yes daddy” You whimper breathlessly feeling the cool metal come into contact with your heat.

“Oh you like that kotenok?’ He asks after he releases your nipple with a pop. You nod your head and whisper a ‘Yes’ and start bucking your hips against his hand.

“Please please fuck me” You beg moving your hand down to his clothed crotch.

“So needy” He mocks unbuckling his belt and drops his pants on the floor before taking off his boxers and shirt. Once he’s fully naked in front of you, you cant help but stare at his reddened cock standing at attention for you.

You sit up so you come face to face with the red tip and wrap your hand around the base of his cock. His eyes go wide and his breath catches in his throat when you lick the pre cum off his slit.

“So good” You whisper before you hollow out your cheeks and take him into your mouth. His hands instantly find their way into your hair trying to resist fucking your throat. You tap his thigh letting him know he can use you as he pleases.

Bucky then grips onto your hair tighter and starts to thrust into your throat. “Fuck kotenok” He whines feeling your tongue graze the vein of his cock. You open your throat as much as you can so you can fully take him and sink down to the base of his cock.

“Fuck- i-im gonna cum if you keep doing that” He grunts feeling your throat open and close around him. His thrusts gets sloppy as he feels himself about to finish. He abruptly stops thrusting and pulls himself out of your throat making you whine.

“As much as id love to make you swallow id much rather breed that pretty pussy” Bucky says wiping the drool off your chin making you nod your head. You quickly get on all fours in front of him and wiggle your ass making him smack it.

“Yes daddy” You moan in delight feeling his metal hand come into contact with your soft skin. Bucky smirks and smacks the other cheek making you moan happily.

“You like that baby?” He coos rubbing the red marks he’s left making you shiver.

“Mhm” You nod backing your ass up against his cock. He takes the sign and slowly eases himself into you before bottoming out.

“So tight” He groans pulling out then thrusting back in. You scream in delight feeling his thick cock stretch you out. You weren’t a virgin in the slightest but Bucky had definitely been the biggest you’d ever taken.

“S-So big daddy” The words come out broken as you feel his tip kiss your g-spot.

“You can take it baby. Take daddy’s cock be a good girl and take it so i can fill you up. Would you like that? Do you want me to breed you and make you a mommy?” He asks wrapping his metal arm around your neck bringing you up to get a new angle.

“OH FUCK YES” You scream at the new angle feeling him in a new way. The thought of Bucky breeding you makes your eyes roll back and your brain go fuzzy. “Please-please fill me up daddy” You bed as his thrusts get harder.

“Oh i will kotenok dont worry” He says squeezing his hand a little around your neck. You never thought in a million years you’d have all your fantasies come true but fuck were you loving it.

“G-Gonna cum daddy… can i cum?” The question is choked out making Bucky smile.

“Yes baby cum for me im right behind you” He said and that’s when the coil in your stomach snapped and you came all over him. Feeling your warm walls clench down on him sent him over the edge, and he wrapped his flesh at around your stomach holding you close as he came. Bucky’s thrusts slowed down as he fucked his cum into you ensuring none would leak out.

“Fuck baby” He groaned in your ear giving you kisses up and down your neck and collarbone. “You did so good kotenok” Bucky praised slowly pulling out but still holding you close. Once he pulled out he laid you against the pillows and settled in between your legs again.

“T-Thank you daddy” You said in a fucked out haze trying to catch your breath. Bucky kisses from your chest down to your thighs and then settles his face in front of your pussy. He spreads your wet folds with his flesh hand before leaving a kiss on your clit.

‘Too sensitive daddy-cant-please-“ You protest trying to close your thighs but failing as he holds them apart.

“Just wanna taste you baby” He whispers giving your thigh a kiss. Not trusting your voice you opt your nodding and letting him do what he wants.

He slowly licks a stipe from your hole to clit making you whimper and cry out. Bucky groans at the way you taste and starts eating you like a man starved. His lips wrap around you clit and starts sucking lightly making you claw at his back.

“Yes yes yes” You chant feeling another orgasm about to rip through you. He picks up the pace and starts sloppily eating your pussy making you feel like never before.

“Gonna cum!” You scream arching your back off his bed and gripping the sheets as you finish on his tongue. Bucky groans in satisfaction and licks you clean before bringing you into a messy kiss.

“So fucking good” He praised after he broke the kiss. You smiled at him and feel back against the pillows in a haze. You felt the bed dip and you saw Bucky walk into the bathroom and grab a wet cloth. He came back to the bed and cleaned you up while telling you how good you did.

“You’re so perfect” He whispered in your ear laying down next to you. You crawled over to him and laid your head on his chest looking up at his pretty blue eyes.

“Not too bad yourself” Bucky laughed at your comment bringing you in for a loving kiss. “I could get used to that” You said with a cheeky grin on your face making him roll his eyes in faux annoyance.

“You better because now youre stuck with me” He said giving you a wink. The thought if being ‘stuck’ with him gave you butterflies and make you melt even more into hin.

“I think id be okay with that” You said pretending to think about it making Bucky laugh. He ran his hand through your hair and admired your beauty. In all of his 106 years on this earth he never thought he felt this way about someone. That was until you.. And he’ll be damned if he ever lets you get away again.

~The end~

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hello my beautiful bubs💗 so I see you added Max Burnett to your list and like to request a little angsty and fluff. 

So Maybe him and reader get into a ugly and heated argument or he leaves her with no explanation like he does in the movie but then they End up fixing everything after awhile. 

hey baby! I hope you like what I wrote!

summary - max left you with a word, causing you to go through many stages of heartbreak until you finally meet again after 5 years.

warning - angst, swearing, heartbreak, no happy ending.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips and @firefly-graphics

He told you to meet him here. You were sure of it. You had reread the address and time he sent, not wanting to disappoint him. You waited anxiously on the bed, gnawing your bottom lip as you whipped your head from the door to your phone. You turned it on and went to the messages, opening his contact.

Max❤: Meet me at our spoken place, you know what room. No, later than 12.

You looked at the time, noting it was now an hour past 12, and you were all alone. You scrolled through the messages you had sent him.

You: I’m here. 12:00 seen

You: Max? Where are you? 12:05 seen

You: Max? 12:15 seen

You stared sadly at your last message.

You: I see… You’re not coming… 1:00 message could not be delivered

You blinked back the tears, wondering if you would’ve seen the signs beforehand if you weren’t so stupidly in love. You would’ve rathered him break things off face to face instead of leaving you like this. Did he even care about you? Were you nothing to him? All these thoughts ran through your head as you stared at the wall, not bothering to wipe the tears that rolled down your cheek away. You must’ve been there for a long time because you were only brought out of your zoned-out state when someone entered the room, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and asking if you were okay. You painfully smiled, nodding your head before leaving. You made your way home, feeling drained of all emotion, not knowing if you’ll ever feel okay again. 

You slowly stripped from your clothes, turned the shower on and entered. Your head rested against the cool tile, letting the water run down your body as tears fell from your eyes. Your heart hurt more than ever, squeezing harshly inside your chest as if someone had reached inside and begun to squeeze. Your sobs filled the quietness of your apartment, showing you how alone you really were. Once you were finished with your shower, you slowly got out and dried yourself, dressing in your comfy clothes before crawling into your bed, ignoring the harsh rumbles in your stomach, begging for food, ignoring the dryness of your throat. You just wanted to close your eyes and never wake again. 

It had been about five years since Max left you without a goodbye and a shattered heart. You spent the first year numb, barely living or feeling anything. Your friends and family didn’t see or hear from you, and when they did, they noticed that you barely took care of yourself. They tried convincing you to go to therapy, but you stared at them blankly. Barely even hearing a word they spoke to you.

The second year, you spent grieving. Your feelings came crashing down on you one day, and you couldn’t stop the dam from breaking. You’d cry whenever you saw something that reminded you of him, and you’d cry if you saw his name or someone who looked like him. You’d cry when you came home and saw things he had gifted you or the jumper he had left behind. The people in your life were still worried, but they were relieved you were at least feeling something now, taking more care of yourself than the previous year. 

And now we are here. For the remaining years, you became cold, heartless, and mean. You had built walls so damn high around your heart that no one could penetrate it. This is what caused the meeting you walked into. Your friends and family sat in your loungeroom as you walked into your apartment, staring at you worriedly. Throwing excuses that they care about you, they're worried about your well-being, and that you need to get help. You left, slamming the door behind you and heading to the closet bar. You sat on the stool and ordered a whiskey, needing something strong. You barely took notice of the man sitting beside you, rolling your eyes as other seats were available.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you drink whiskey.” You scowled, knowing who was now sitting beside you by the voice. Max smirked, leaning against the counter. “What, no hug?” You skulled the rest of your drink, slamming the glass down before slowly turning toward him, noticing the smug look on his face. 

You smirk, causing his brows to furrow as confusion takes over his features before you raise your fist and slam it into his face, hearing the crunch of his nose. You slam some bills down onto the counter and begin to walk off, exiting the bar to get as far away from that asshole as possible. You rolled your eyes, clenching your jaw, when you heard him following behind you. “Hey! Wait up!” You don’t. You just pick up your pace until he grabs hold of your arm and spins you, quickly raising his hands as you go to punch him again. “I just want to talk.”

“Talk?” You growl, stepping closer to the man. “Now you just want to talk? After five fucking years, you finally want to fucking talk?!” You scream, punching his chest until he grabs your wrists and stares at you. You huff, glaring at him. “I don’t want to talk, Max. I want you to fuck off. I want to return to five years ago and get the shattered pieces of my heart back.” You lick your lips, “I want to go back to before I met you so that I could have never met you and fallen for your stupid words and your stupid face. I want to be me again, but guess what? I can’t! Because I fell for you.”

He raises a brow, gulping as he continues to stare at you. He took in how beautiful you had gotten and how your sweet scent wafted through the air and into his nose. He missed you and feels it’s too late to make it up to you, but god, he will try his hardest too. “Are you done?” 

“Let me go, you asshole.” You growl. You wouldn’t let him back in. You couldn’t. You don’t know if you’ll survive another heartbreak and aren’t willing to try.

“Just listen to me, okay? I’ve been looking for you for five years.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at his words. “It’s true, goddamit, Y/n! Will you just fucking listen to me.” 

“Or what? What are you going to do, huh? What’s worse than you pretending to fucking love me and then leaving me without so much of a word?” Your glare sharpens, desperately wanting to get far away from him. 

“For fuck sake! I didn’t pretend to fucking love you! I still fucking love you! I didn’t have a fucking choice, okay?!” Your brows furrow, wondering what the fuck he means by that. Max sighs. “They were onto you and me. They threatened to hurt you if I met or even spoke to you. It took me four years to get away from them, to get them off my radar. You disappeared. I’ve been looking for you to ensure they didn’t do anything. Fuck! I didn’t want to fucking hurt you!” 

You shake your head, not wanting to believe him. You couldn’t. Sure, you still had some love for him, but you couldn’t put yourself through that again. Max cups your cheeks, looking into your eyes with his tear-filled ones. “Please, just give me a chance… Even as a friend, I just… Please, I need to have you in my life.” You shrug against him, stepping back and away from him. 

“I don’t know… Maybe in another life, but I don’t know if I can put myself through that again.” You swallow the sob that tries to pass your lips before turning away from him and walking away, holding back the tears that want to fall.

“Y/n! Please!” He cries vision blurred with tears as he watches you leave him like he left you. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[777nicetits]

look who’s back ;P

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ baseball player!schlatt x physiotherapist!reader, mentions of injuries, a lot of bickering, not proofread. english is not my first language.

“Where is he?!” You borderline scream as you enter the locker room, the sea of (luckily clothed, save for a couple shirtless ones) players turning their heads over to where you and the nurses stood at the door.

To your right, you heard the unmistakable and ever so insufferable sound of a gravel, low chuckle. Your head whipped in its direction, fire burning behind your dilated pupils as your eyes found his. Standing by the entrance to the showers (mistake number one, not supposed to put any weight on his left leg), a damp towel thrown over his shoulder and another one wrapped around his hips (mistake number two, no full body showers, no wetting the bandage), the dirty uniform he wore previously carelessly laid on the ground next to his feet (mistake number three, absolutely no playing for the next three months).

Mother. Fucker.

“You gotta be shitting me!” This time you screamed. The room erupted in laughter, but you didn’t find anything about this situation funny.

With a heavy sigh you looked over your shoulders, head nodding once, the silent signal for the nurses to go get him, and so they did, walking over to the man with the wheelchair he hated so much.

Schlatt stumbled backwards, the back of his knee hitting the wooden bench behind him and almost knocking him onto his ass. “Hey! What’s this about?”

“You’re late for your physical therapy session. Y’know, the place you should’ve been instead of in the field, disobeying my direct orders!?”

He scoffed. “Can I at least put some clothes on? Or you want me to go like this, doc?”

I’m gonna kill this bitch, you thought.

But, instead of jumping on him like a hungry lioness and taking a piece of his jugular off with your own teeth, you just inhaled deeply, holding the oxygen in your lungs for a couple of seconds before letting go.

“Just bring the clothes,” you said calmly, “we’ll help you put them on in the clinic. Can’t risk you putting any more weight on your feet.”

Out of excuses, Schlatt reluctantly sat down on the wheelchair. Huffing and puffing his way out.

“I can’t believe you did that!” You slammed the door to your office open, the wood plank hitting against the wall and making everything on it shake.

Schlatt, who now had a shirt on and had taken control of his own wheelchair, rolled his eyes as he rolled himself in. “You’re so dramatic. It was just a light practice, I didn’t even-“

“Dramatic?!” You did a 180°, twirling like a ballerina to angrily face him. “Schlatt, you’re 100% my responsibility. If you keep disregarding what I tell you, you won’t get any better, and if you don’t get any better the higher ups are gonna blame me for that! I could lose my job!”

Schlatt kept looking up at you with a blank expression, and it was your time to roll your eyes. “Dunno why I’m telling you any of that, it’s not like you care anyways.”

You walk over behind your desk, opening the top drawer and taking some new bandages to replace Schlatt’s damp one, while he takes the moment you weren’t looking to get up, quickly throwing the towel around his hip to the floor and putting his underwear on.

“You’re not gonna lose your job.” He grunted, sitting back down on the wheelchair.

“Sure buddy,” you scoffed, closing back the drawer, “because when they ask you why haven’t you recovered you’ll tell them that’s it’s ‘cause you didn’t listen to me.”

“You think I’m that much of a douchebag I’ll just throw you under the bus like that?”

You crouched down in front of him, placing his feet on top of your knee, fingers working skillfully as you undid the bandage, careful as to not hurt him in the process.

“You’re not a douchebag, Schlatt,” you sighed, “I just know where your priorities lie. And I don’t blame you, I’d do the same if I had the talent you do… and the salary.”

With yours eyes still fixated on changing the bandage on his sprained ankle, you heard him scoff. “My priorities? Yeah, right.” He leaned in, hand cupping your chin and lifting your head up, your eyes meeting his. “Maybe you should let me take you out for a couple drinks, show you where my priorities really lie.”

To say that his offer took you by surprise would be an overstatement. Ever since you started working with the Yankees, Schlatt has always flirted with you, just for fun (and you always send him on some HR visits, y’know, just for fun), but this is the first time he’s ever gotten this close to you, touching you while he talks with that smooth voice of his, that stupid grin plastered on his face. The bastard knows what he’s doing, and he knows he’s good at it.

You placed his feet back on the floor with little care, making him wince, and got up, your thighs burning a bit.

“You haven’t seen miss Anderson this month, have you?”

“Oh c’mon, toots,” he chuckled, “you can’t pretend you don’t like the attention forever. Just give me one night, you won’t regret it, I swear.”

You looked down at him, arms crossed over your chest. It’s not a matter of liking the attention, it’s more of a matter of not hating it. Or at least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself.

“I’ll call Nelson to come help you put your pants.” You say after awhile of silence, making your way over to the door.

Schlatt lets out a breathy laugh. “Just so you know, I won’t let it go until you say yes!” He screamed as you walked away, leaving him by himself in your office.

You shook your head, a dumb little smile on your face.

I really hope you don’t.

aaaand scene 🎬 !! it took me three whole days to write this lmao, what can i say? i’m just that good at procrastinating 🤪

[steddie-island]

Do it for him

Written for week one of @softsteddieseptember Prompt: Facing your fears WC: 1,517 | Rating: T | Tags: Hurt/comfort, Steve has a fear of doctors, Eddie Munson lives See ao3 for the full list of tags Dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

It should have been easy, something he didn't need Eddie here with him for, but it wasn't.

The room was cold, and despite the layers of clothes and the crinkly paper beneath him, the table was somehow even colder. There were goosebumps over Steve's arms that weren't brought on by the cool air.

It should've been fucking easy, but Steve was fighting the urge to throw up.

"Hey." Eddie's arm came up and wrapped around his shoulders, tugged him closer. "I'm right here."

Steve didn't trust his voice, could only find the energy to give a quick nod. It wasn't that he didn't trust Eddie, or that Eddie didn't make sitting there easier.

Steve hadn't seen a doctor since Starcourt. Since he and Robin had been tied back to back, since he'd been tortured and they'd come thisfuckingclose to being dissected. Even after Vecna, after he'd been chewed up and spat back out by the bats, Steve had insisted on not going to a doctor. Hopper had gotten it. He'd had stitched Steve up, had gotten him a prescription.

Their experiences might've been different, but the scars and the nightmares were similar enough that he didn't push. Steve had seen the effort it'd taken, too, for him to sit there while he sewed Steve back together. Every comment had been bitten back, the only sign that there was something to hide in the way the sheriff released his breath.

Steve had sat by Eddie's side in the hospital, once he'd been given the okay himself, but that was different. He could watch. Could guard.

Could use his bat if anyone so much as looked at Eddie the wrong way. That'd taken some convincing, too, to get the nurses to let him keep it in Eddie's room with him. Steve still wasn't sure what Hopper had said, but after the second or third day they'd mostly stopped paying him and his weapon any mind.

Steve's grip only loosened when Eddie's eyes opened up again.

It was a long road to recovery. It took a week for Eddie to not sleep through most of the day, then another week for him to eat anything more solid than chicken noodle soup. Week three they (albeit reluctantly) declared everything healed enough for him to get out of bed long enough to be wheeled down to Max's room to sit with her for a while.

After the hospital came months of physical therapy. Steve was right there, making sure Eddie made it to every appointment. Even on the days when Eddie shouted, when Eddie threw his books at the wall to try and push Steve away. Even on the days when Eddie broke down, because it was hard, and it fucking hurt, and the progress was so goddamn slow he was going crazy.

Steve was there when Eddie stopped fighting him, because even though the pain didn't go away he could feel the changes happening to his body, could finally tell that he was getting better.

Somewhere between one appointment and the next, over cheeseburgers and milkshakes and joints shared in the middle of the night when neither of them could sleep, something shifted between the two of them. Neither of them could remember who actually made the first move, but it didn't matter in the long run.

Now Eddie was the one doing the pushing. He was a better pusher, really didn't have to push much when he could just turn those deep, wide eyes on Steve.

"I'm worried about you," he'd whispered in bed one morning, when Steve was in that soft space between sleep and wakefulness. "I know your hearing is getting worse, and you need glasses… I know you didn't get looked at after everything, and I get why, but…" He'd kissed Steve's hair, his temple, his cheek. "I can't lose you. Please, Stevie. For me?"

That was all it had taken for Steve to crumple— something Robin had bitched about later, because she'd been begging Steve to go to the doctor for literal years. Eddie hadn't even had to mention the chronic migraines that put him down for days sometimes.

Once Steve had agreed, Eddie and Robin did the calling around, did the appointment making.

Now there they were, and Steve wanted to be sick. When he'd agreed he hadn't actually expected anything to happen, but of course his soulmates hadn't let him get off that easily. He hated them.

He loved them so much it was a physical sensation deep in his chest sometimes.

"I'm right here," Eddie reminded him. He had time to brush a kiss over Steve's temple before the door was opening and a man in a white coat stepped inside.

It wasn't just one doctor's visit. There were more physicals, there were x-rays and MRIs and visits where they checked his eyes and his ears. Eddie was still right there for every appointment, holding on to him when he could. When he couldn't actually be by Steve's side, he spoke to him from where the doctors said he could stand. That wasn't as good, but it got Steve through without him melting down right then and there.

The meltdowns always happened later, when they were in bed together, when Steve could let the stress of the day go and fall apart in Eddie's arms. Eddie held him, kissed his tears away and whispered how good Steve had done, how proud, and how grateful he was that Steve was taking care of himself, especially since he was doing it for someone else and not for himself.

Sometimes Steve fell asleep with Eddie whispering those sweet things into his hair. Sometimes he calmed down enough for Eddie to let him go, to start kissing down his neck and start sliding down his body, beneath their comforter. "You took care of yourself today, now let me take care of you, too."

Sometimes Steve ended up crying after that, too, but it was for a different reason. It was for how hard Eddie loved him, how softly he was touched, as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Because Eddie believed he was the most precious thing in the world.

"What do you think?" Steve blinked at Eddie from behind his new glasses. They were simple, round gold frames he'd picked out with Robin.

With his new hearing aid he didn't have to strain to hear Eddie's small intake of breath.

"I didn't know it was possible for you to look better than you already did," Eddie said. He cupped Steve's face between his palms and tipped his head this way and that, getting a look at the glasses from every angle. "You're so fucking beautiful, sunshine."

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie and buried his face against the worn fabric of his shirt. "Thank you," he murmured.

"For liking your glasses?" Eddie shook his head. "You don't have to thank me for that."

"No, not for— for that." Steve lifted his head and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "For staying with me. For helping me through this. I know it wasn't easy. I wasn't easy, but you stayed with me." His fingers fidgeted nervously with Eddie's shirt. "You didn't have to, but you did."

"Wasn't easy?" Eddie pressed closer, so Steve's back bumped against the counter behind him. "It was the easiest thing in the world for me. I hated seeing you upset, but it meant you weren't letting these things stay unchecked." His thumbs stroked Steve's cheeks, and Steve leaned into the touch. "We have a baseline now, to know if things get worse. You have medicine now, so you won't have to suffer through a migraine the way you did before. That was easy, sunshine."

Steve felt more than saw Eddie's smile as he was pulled against his boyfriend's chest again.

"Even if you would've been as much of a pain in the ass as I was, even if you'd yelled and pushed me away, I would've stayed. Because you stayed, too. You made me take care of myself."

Steve sniffed softly— he wasn't sure when he started crying, but he could feel the tears that weren't trapped behind his glasses soaking into Eddie's shirt. "You fought so hard to stay alive, couldn't let you give up."

"You did, too." Eddie kissed the top of Steve's head. "You've been surviving for so long, making sure everyone else had what they needed. It was time someone returned the favor."

Steve lifted his head, and Eddie brushed over his cheeks again, wiping away fresh tears. "And here I thought that's what you've been doing all this time."

"I had a lot of favors to return," Eddie said. He brushed the tips of their noses together gently.

Steve tried to argue sometimes, when Eddie talked so sweet to him, but as Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, the arguments died in his chest.

Maybe Eddie was right, and it was time to let himself be taken care of after all.

And maybe this time, he would do it for himself.

[adventuringblind]

Deserving

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: while she falls into the pit of her mind, Charles is there to pull her out.

Warnings: mentioned self-harm, anxiety, toxic media, mentions of addiction

Notes: A Nonny request, I hope you like it!! This one is definitely an insight into how my brain works.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Everyone says rookie years are the hardest. Which, she won't say everyone is wrong, just that she also had consistently bad years. They blend into each other now. A never-ending cycle of the same lame excuses as to why she's so downcast.

She's a rookie driver and having a pretty decent season. Logan and Oscar are two of her closest friends. She's dating Charles Leclerc of all people.

So why is that piece of her brain still nagging at her? Years of therapy and help hasn't done the trick. The stinging still pushes through to the front of her mind.

The habit started so young. It was a distraction from the pain of whatever she'd been going through at the time. A means to satisfy her the voices in her head. Now it's to remind her she's still alive. That the media hasn't shattered her already frail will to live quite yet.

Everything in her wants to just... stop. Everyday she's reminded that her place is somewhere else. Not in the car, not with Charles, not even on the planet.

It doesn't matter that she's having a good year, that the car is good, or that she has people who love her. The voices always come back in those dark hours when she's alone.

She staggered herself in the beginning. Enough that her physio wasn't catching on. She lived in Charles' hoodies, and he thought nothing of it. Just another source of comfort.

He'd seen the faded scars, asked her about it every occasionally. He never pushes her to talk about it.

She doesn't deserve Charles, or anyone for that matter. Mentors, family, friends, they are all to wonderful for her to drag them down into her misery. The constant pity party she throws herself has no guests, only her and her demons.

Redbull isn't the best environment for someone as fragile as her. Despite the boosts of confidence Christian gives her daily and the constant reassurance from Max, she doesn't feel like she deserves it. The media is eating her alive. The next teammate to be crucified to Redbull and Mad Max.

It's starting to become noticeable again. The lack of sleep and covering clothes. Charles is skeptical and keeps reassuring her she can talk to him.

If she does that, he'll leave. Her mind can't take being alone yet.

Max is the first to catch sight of the new lines adorning her wrist. He asks if she's alright, but again, nobody pushes for more. Maybe if they did, she would break. Her fragile walls would come tumbling down.

Oscar is the next to push. A good friend of hers and they've both had good seasons. He and Logan show up one night with comfort food and cards. It manages to make her smile like when they were younger.

But they have to leave eventually. The voices swallow her whole the second she's alone again.

Charles finally pushes for answers. He finds her alone, body slumped along the hotel bathroom wall. She's exhausted, but manages to give a crooked, tired smile.

He crouches down in front of her and looks at the fresh line on her thighs. Bandages are something she has readily available, and Charles knows exactly where to find them.

He works quietly, just humming softly as he patches her up. It's a classical song that he listens enough that she knows the tune but not the name.

Charles dresses her into comfy clothes and tucks her into bed. A hand plays with her hair and strokes her cheek.

She doesn't deserve him.

"Tell me what's eating away at you, chéri. Please, I hate that you won't talk to me."

She scoots her body closer to Charles so she doesn't have to see his face. "Just hard - I guess."

"It's okay to have hard days. It's okay that you feel the way you do. But this thing, hurting yourself, is not the way to make it better."

"I know that, Charlie!" Her voice cracks at saying his name. "I just can't help it."

Those fragile walls she has come tumbling down. The pit of despair finally swallows her, and she can't stop the tears.

It hurts. Her head, her heart, her bones, it all hurts. She falls and shatters, but Charles is here to put the pieces back together.

"I don't deserve you. You're everything people love, and I don't want to drag you down with me."

"Who put that idea in your head?"

"The voices," She sniffles. Her words muffled when Charles pulls her into his chest.

"Well, the voices are incorrect. I, of all people, know what it's like for the media to pick you a part. Whether it's appearances, my driving, my relationships, they will always find something." Charles pulls her back just a bit, enough for him to make eye contact. She hates how his eyes are as glassy as hers. "You don't have to suffer all alone, in silence. You have people around you that understand and want to help. None of us are asking for perfection. We - I - don't want to see you hurting so much."

"What if it's too much?"

"Then we figure it out together."

She falls asleep in Charles' arms. Tears soak into everything, but he doesn't tell her to move. He comforts, because Charles loves her.

She has people who want to be there for her. Yes, slips happen, healing is never straightforward, but she can try. She can lean on Charles, let him love her; let him be the steady rock she needs in her life.

"Progress chéri, not perfection."

"You sound like all team principles."

"And? It's a good saying!"

Charles pulls a laugh out of her. A genuine laugh at something that isn't even funny. She blames her love for him.

"Maybe I do deserve you."

"If this is an insult, I'm taking all the covers tonight."

[persephone11110]

A Web Of Lies | J. Seresin

warnings: past physical abuse, past domestic violence-> old traditional views of how women are supposed to be,victim blaming—self victim blaming, hurt/comfort, protective jake seresin, mentions of throwing up and being on your period, oc death-> mentions of alcohol abuse and car accident

summary:“Y/n sometimes it best if women are seen and not heard,sometimes its best if you just take the hits and don’t react”. Mama tells you while holding an icepack to her swollen eye.

AN: do i need therapy or do i need keep writing oc’s with childhood trauma?

ocs: Betty L/n, Harry L/n, Darren

—

THIS STORY IS ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND GENERATIONAL TRAUMA AND MISOGYNISTIC SOCIETIAL VIEWS SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL

—

Women are seen not heard.

It’s a phrase you learned as a little girl, it’s an assumption youv’e lived by for awhile, taking it in consideration when saw your dad first hit your mom, when Darren first slapped you. Its always the women fault— it can never be the man fault.

You didn’t learn this lesson until your eight years old, when your father facade cripples quickly. Before this happened he was sweet to you, always calling you his princess, having tea parties with you—throwing you over his shoulder.

His laughter was loud and clear , just like yours until it isn’t. Your dad is everything a man is supposed to be until he isn’t. The loudness that once meant happiness turns into—loud agressive shouting, when it’s him and mama alone together.

Well they think their alone together. Your wandering down the staircase to see were he went as he promised to read you the cinderella story again—like he did most nights, reading to you until your snores filled the room.

They’re fighting again which isn’t surprising to say the least. Your parents always argued whether it was in hushed tones or it was so loud that your neighbors next door would come over and make sure everything was fine.

“Betty it wouldn’t be like this if you just made me happy!”,his voice booms, bouncing off the walls. He doesn’t look like he usually does, his hair was messy opposed to the gel back look he normally wore, his clothes has stains on it- something that was unheard of until tonight.

You swear mama not breathing after you watched daddy ball his fist up, striking her across the face. The cracking sound echoes throughout the living room, mama on the ground holding the right side of her face.

You go to open your mouth, worried for your mama. But before you can your nanny Louisa gently wraps her hand around your mouth. “Shh little one, lets get to bed–theres school remember”. Louisa picks you up and you lean your head on her shoulder, leaving your mama bleeding on the cold floor alone.

It makes mama stop arguing with daddy, his combat boots were heavy aganist the floor as he leaves through the front door— using all his strength to slame it.

In the morning you notice how quiet mama is, how red and swollen her face is. “Louisa taking you to school today Y/n” her voice is small and soft.

“Mama why did daddy hit you?”. She almost drops the kettle onto the ground, mama didn’t know you were there watching the vicious scene unfold.

Thats the day your mama infamous words get stuck in your head,“Sometimes mama makes daddy mad, sometimes women must be seen and not heard”.

It words that stay with Y/n for over an decade.

—

Circa of 2002

Your in your junior year of college when the lesson your mom taught you is sitting in the back of your mind.

Just take the hit Y/n, it makes life easier.

Your relationship with Darren is so fresh, yet your already mimicking how your mom acts around your dad. Your already walking on eggshells with him, he already rolls his eyes when you forget to give him the answers to the psychologyhomework—it meant your walking on thin line of his frustration.

Sometimes you think you deserve the bruises that riddle your body, how many times have you forgotten to call him back, when he tells you to. Sometimes he’s annoyed with how much you move in your sleep, “I can’t sleep Y/n if you move so much”.

Your relationship with Darren was the true epitome of Opposite Attracts. Like today you got excited telling Darren about the release of the book Coraline. You remembered him reminding you to calm down, him telling you didn’t care about his day.

Or when your on your period and he insists that your fine, and how you had the tendency to overreact when it came to your pain. How he’s sighs when your own the ground cleaning up your throw up as the cramps had gotten worse. Telling you its 2AM in the morning and he’s desperately trying to sleep, and now he can’t.

The guilt eats away at you for days, now when you get your period you slept on the bathroom floor.

You don’t have friends anymore, as Darren had grown controlling of your social life. “Am I not enough for you, Y/n?”. Your friends grow tired of seeing you so bruised, they grow tired of trying to help someone who didn’t want the help. Its just you and Darren now–at least he didn’t grow tired of you.

It took ten years for you to leave, your about two years into your nursing job. Your a hypocrite, as you stood infront of a woman in a coma, her husband had beaten to her within an inch of her life and the only chance she had at living was a medical induced coma.

Here you were holding her hand telling her it wasn’t her fault. “Sometimes we believe we don’t deserve better and we believe there is no one out there who will ‘love’ us”. You sighed, lifting one hand to wipe away your tears.

You left him-leaving the state and finding a job all the way in Miramar, California—changing your cell number and email. A phone call from your mother makes you almost burst out laughing,“Y/n I’m so sorry for your loss sweetheart he was such a nice boy”. Darren drinking habit has gotten worse, he managed to flip his car over on its side. You didn’t feel like telling her about the break up - there was no use anway, as she’ll tell you to beg for his love again, like all the other times.

Present

You sitting across from Jake, staring at him waiting for him to tell you how much you suck at cooking. Waiting for him to pick up the dish and chuck it over your head—listening to him pop open another beer, the plate and flood sliding down the wall.

It doesnt come, its never going to.

Jake gives you a soft smile, and he reaches for your hand to hold it, as he eats.“God damn darlin, you put your entire foot in it”.

“Thank you Jake”, You push your chair back, moving to collect his dish. He softly grips your hand, stopping you from moving.

“Darlin I have legs—finish your food first”. He drops a kiss onto your head before walking to the kitchen. His southern drawl thicker than usual.

Darren did always say you were stubborn. You were standing infront of the sink washing all the dishes that had been used for dinner. Despite Jake telling you didn’t have to.

“Y/n is cleaning so hard for you?”.

“Is it so hard for my girlfriend to clean up after herself?”, your holding a cold beer to your swollen face.

“Darlin, no”. Jake wraps his arms around you not caring about your wet clothes. “Let me do it Y/n”. He gently pushes you into the kitchen chair.

Jake doing the dishes right now.

Something your dad wouldn’t dare do for your mom,“Betty I’m tired the least my wife can do is clean up for me”. Darren wouldn’t neither—“Goodnight Y/n, or I’m watching the game”, leaving you in the dark kitchen alone.

Jake Seresin isn’t them, Jake isn’t the man you’ve spent majority of your life scared of. It’s takes time for you believe that, it takes time for you to believe his words,“I will never lay a hand on you Y/n”.

It took some time but staring at him washing the dishes singing along with Beyoncé you start to believe him. You know for certain that Jacob Grant Seresin is not like them—he can’t be.

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🧡 Kid Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🧡 the wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci {M, 150k}

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

🧡 Flour and Chocolate by teaandtumblr {M, 145k}

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

 OR Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

🧡 Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren {E, 92k}

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

🧡 Just Pretend by @kingsofeverything {E, 90k}

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

🧡 Standing on the Edge of Forever by EllaO {M, 55k}

“So let me get this straight. You took Mr. Squiggles from the classroom habitat, took him with you on your fieldtrip to the zoo, and released him in the aviary?”

Harry Styles is a single father, just trying to keep his life organized after losing his husband four years earlier. Between his daughter, Liam's hellion twins, and Sophia throwing him into any romantic tangle she can think of, life gets a little crazy. Of course, everything changes the moment Lo and the twins get interested in their school musical, The Wizard of Oz. Because the new director, Louis Tomlinson, is just about the most attractive man that Harry has ever seen.

Featuring adorable Dad Harry, hotshot actor Louis, three sassy kids, a badass Sophia Smith, and a Liam who just wants all their kids to be well behaved.

🧡 A Life That We Share (I Owe It All to You) by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 50k}

When Harry's son came home from school crying he didn't think things could get any worse. Lucky for them, things were just about to change for the best.

or Harry's son get bullied until Louis' son shows up :)

🧡 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie {E, 46k}

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

🧡 hymns for restless stars by @turnyourankle {E, 37k}

Every Holiday season Louis has his pupils write down their Christmas wishes for class. He's read almost every wish under the sun, but one girl's wish takes him by surprise. It's for her uncle not to be alone anymore. It's not a wild wish by any means, but Louis had no idea that former teen idol Harry Styles was lonely in the first place.

🧡 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 {E, 30k}

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

🧡 Love is a Compass by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {M, 27k}

Louis smiled to himself, knowing what Cameron was hinting at. “Did you want to stay with me in my warm bed?”

Cameron nodded as he slipped his thumb back into mouth, fighting to keep his eyes open now. “Please, Lou.”

“Sure. get some sleep, okay?” Louis hugged him tighter and closed his own eyes, his arms heavy with the weight of the little boy they were wrapped around. Just as Louis was dozing off, his eyes too heavy to keep open anymore, he heard whispered words that shattered his heart into a million more pieces.

“Please don’t go to heaven too, Lou.”

Harry waltzes into Louis’ life when everything seems to be crumbling around him. A dad overnight, grief stricken and learning to be a parent as he goes, Harry helps to bring light, laughter and, of course, baked goods back into their lives.

🧡 Enchanted by @brightgolden {E, 25k}

“My close friends usually call me H,” Harry mumbles suddenly after Louis wraps up his story.

That’s unexpected. “Are you telling me I’m your close friend now?” Louis quips, squinting his eyes at Harry.

OR Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.

🧡 Barefoot in Blue Jeans by @indiaalphawhiskey {E, 24k}

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

🧡 Home for Christmas by @haloeverlasting {G, 22k}

The Shameless Hallmark Movie AU you probably didn't ask for.

Or, the one where Harry didn't think he wanted a family, but with a little Christmas magic (and maybe one Louis Tomlinson) he realizes that he is very, very wrong.

🧡 Took Me by Surprise by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {M, 20k}

Louis Tomlinson and his best friend Bridget had a daughter when they were very young and he was on the brink of becoming the next MLS star. Until he blew out his knee.

A decade later, he's the head anchor of the American version of Match of the Day and is raising the coolest nine-year-old on the planet, who happens to be obsessed with Harry Styles - popstar, musician, and all-around household name.

🧡 The Baby Whisperer by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 18k}

Harry’s newborn baby is having trouble sleeping and nothing he does seems to work. Tired and alone and at his wits end, Harry is at a loss until a new neighbour arrives to turn his world upside down.

OR the one where being neighbourly takes on a whole new meaning.

🧡 Fugue by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry {E, 16k}

Harry falls asleep a 17 year-old who lives in Cheshire and is probably rockstar Louis Tomlinson's biggest fan. He wakes up 24 with a wedding ring on his finger, two kids, and Louis Tomlinson attempting to wake him up with a blow job. The doctor calls it organic retrograde amnesia, says he might never get back the last seven years of his life. The only thing that feels the same is how he feels when Louis touches him, and maybe that's enough to make him fall in love all over again.

🧡 You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax {E, 15k}

Harry doesn’t ever mean to hurt him; Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s the only thing he ever does anymore.

Or, Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

🧡 reckless behaviour by @nouies {E, 13k}

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

🧡 It'll Be by @styleandsin {E, 13k}

Louis has always wanted children and he decides he's done waiting for love to come first. However, after adopting a baby girl just days after she's born, he quickly realizes how hard parenting is. Louis hires Harry to be his Nanny, and it all works out great. Until Louis falls in love with him.

🧡 How It Begins (series) by @phdmama {E, 8k}

New town, new job, new school for his daughter. It's a chance to start again for Louis Tomlinson, a clean slate.

Or is it?

[rxgerthatt]

save me darling, for you are my salvation

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : 18+/smut/creeps/ no minors!

Summary : you own a cafe. Bucky’s trying to work through his shit.

A/N : two in one day? Aren’t you lucky.

When Bucky met you he was a changed man.

As changed as an ex assassin with a metal arm and superhuman strength could be.

Gone were the days of mission reports and masked, grime slicked faces. No more soviet slugs, no more murdering innocents. I’m James Buchanan Barnes, I’m no longer the Winter Soldier and you are part of my efforts to get my life back together.

Or something like that.

He’d taken up therapy. Once a week for one hour, unpacking decades worth of baggage he kept locked away in the folds of his mind. He’d come to your cafe after every session - 2pm on the dot - and not because the coffee was good.

Nah, he came because of you.

The bright eyed girl. Bouncing hair and gleaming smile. In another life he would have had no issue asking you out, but a hundred years of trauma has an affect on his confidence. You were like a soothing balm over his mind. After an hour of facing demons with gaping mouths, drooling nothing but trauma over his shoulder - seeing your smile made them shrivel into the darkness once more.

“Hey Bucky,” you beam, joyful, full of light and he wonders how you do it. “The usual?”

“Hey,” he sits at the counter. “Please doll.”

You sit your book down, get to work on making him a black coffee - one sugar because he needed the lift up.

You place it in front of him with a grin, “one black with sugar.”

He thanks you, “what you reading today?”

You push your book across the counter, bent corners, pages dog eared and he could tell it was well loved. A Time to Kill.

“You seen the movie?” You ask him, leaning your head in your hands and looking up at him through your lashes and fuck - if he hadn’t dreamed of that in another context.

Bucky shakes his head, takes a sip and watches as you think through what you say next.

“I’ve got it on DVD, you could borrow it or…” you trail off for a moment, before - fuck it. “You could come round? Only if you want.”

Your cute. Cheeks blushed pink, big eyes sparkling and how could he ever say no to you? His candle in the dark, warped reality of his life.

“Tonight?” He finds himself asking.

—

Your apartment is what he expects it to be - immaculate.

A humble one bedroom with eggshell painted walls and dark oak furniture. You open the door to him with a smile, ushering him inside. You’ve laid out snacks - popcorn, chips and these little jelly sweets in colour coordinated bowls.

He watches you as you load up the DVD player. It’s the first time he’s seen you out of uniform, short shorts and oversized graphic tee with these big fluffy slippers that look too big compared to your slender legs.

You have great legs.

“Never expected this to be your kinda film,” Bucky comments as you sit beside him, throwing him a blanket as you wrap yourself in your own.

“I find it best not to judge a book by its cover,” you reply with a smirk. “Who doesn’t love a good crime movie?”

You had a point.

As the movie played on you got closer, until his arm was resting on the sofa above you, two blankets down to one, your back pressed to his side and he was sure it was a good film - but he couldn’t concentrate. He just hoped you didn’t ask any questions about it.

He’d never been this close. To study the curl of your lashes as they kissed the tips of high cheekbones and the soft slope of your nose and the freckle you had just below your ear. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever fucking seen.

You yawn softly as the credits roll. Bucky moves to stand up but you call his name.

“You can take the sofa,” you rub your hands together. “It’s late.”

He nods, feels his heart jump and he doesn’t miss the breath of relief you let out at his acceptance. Maybe you thought he didn’t want you - the furthest thing from the truth - but he knew his exterior was steely - maybe he could let you in.

You bring him pillows, make the sofa look like the comfiest bed in the world and before you retire to your room you kiss his cheek.

“G’night Bucky.”

He leaves before you wake up.

—

Bucky found out he was jealous on a Tuesday afternoon.

He never remembers feeling like this in the 40’s - that green brush of envy as a jock leaned across the counter waffling words he couldn’t hear. You carried on working, humming occasionally but never really listening.

Bucky gets closer and your eyes shift to him, face lighting and you greeted him with that smile that melted his vital organs.

“Hey doll, just the usual please.”

You nod, refusing his money as you get to work on his coffee, and he wonders if the fact you’d never taken a dime from him was a sign you liked him. He hoped it was.

You’re turned away when Bucky catches shit-house in the corner staring openly at your ass - no shame, licking his lips with a smile and Bucky felt the involuntary shift of his metal arm beneath his clothes.

Punk.

“What’s it gonna take babe?” The jock says to you as you turn to clean the counter. You cut a glance in his direction, scowl on your face that Bucky had never seen before because it was so unlike you - his girl with the blazing smile.

“I’m here everyday, won’t you let me take that pretty ass out on a date?” What a gentleman.

You openly bristle, place a bill in front of him with a scowl.

“And I tell you everyday Nathan, I’m not interested in dating,” you respond. “Cash or card?”

Bucky chuckles. He’d never seen that side to you. Fire burning your fingertips, tongue like a whip as you shot his advancements out of the air - bang, bang, bang.

Bullseye.

Nathan finally looks at Bucky then, an icy gaze with stormy blue eyes - enough to scare a cat - not a super soldier.

“You find that funny?” He barks.

Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, grins as he says, “yeah actually, I did.”

As expected, Nathan storms out after paying - men like him have worse bark than bite - and Bucky was well equipped to deal with both. Especially when it came to you.

You sigh, shoulders slumped and you continue to clean. Bucky wonders how often you deal with assholes like that - everyday by the sounds of things. He couldn’t blame a man for trying, you were the most beautiful girl Bucky had ever seen, and he’d been alive for over a century.

“So you’re not interested in dating?” Bucky earns a smile from you, a small chuckle in your throat that still sounds defeated.

You work your arm in circles, counter spotless as you say, “I’m holding out for someone special.”

“Do I know him?” Bucky asks.

“You know him pretty well,” you blush.

—

When he finds out John Walker is Captain America - he goes to you.

He shouldn’t. It’s 3am but he doesn’t know where else to go, saunters the streets and he lands at your door; rapping his knuckles on the wood. Heart on his sleeve, tears brushing his eyes because how could they replace him?

How could they ever replace Steve?

His best friend. His one tie to another life. The only man that deserved the title of Captain America - not some jumped up military man, brainwashed by governments who tell him he’s doing the ‘right thing.’ To see that shield on another man’s arm?

That fucking hurt.

You’re confused when you open the door, groomed by sleep and you’re even prettier when you’re not done up - messy hair, sleep hazed eyes.

“Your neighbour let me in I-“

You move to let him inside, not needing the explanation and Bucky knew he came to the right place. His one solace, his salvation - you.

“Are you okay Bucky?” You ask him and he breaks down.

You hold him as he cries, rub his back with tender hands; his rock against a moving tide. The ocean tried to wash him away but he clung onto you, and his head stayed above water.

He fills in the spots you’ve missed. The parts of his life he wanted to share but was worried they would scare you off. Holy fuck - he wasn’t joking when he said he was 106.

The metal arm mesmerises you. You turn his palm in your hand with a - “I thought you said you had poor circulation?”

You make him laugh. Brew him tea and listen to his queries and you do a better job than Raynor ever could because he just needed someone to hear him, to understand him.

The dark fog lifts with your head on his shoulder, his hand combing through your hair and he apologises for getting you out of your bed. You tell him to shut up.

Nothing else matters when he’s here with you. These fleeting moments where he thinks he could do life like this, a normal life, with you - the girl from the cafe that stopped his heart when he first saw you. You chase away the dark, cocoon him in this blissful period of you and him - that’s all that mattered.

“I’m off tomorrow,” you announce. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“Thank you doll,” he replies.

You take his hand, lead him to your room and it takes him by surprise because it’s a fucking mess and that’s unlike you. You scratch the nape of your neck with a giggle, apologising but he doesn’t know what for.

He sleeps with you tangled around him, the warmth of your body rocking him to a deep slumber; the smell of your hair like a wet finger to a match on his nerves.

Yeah - he could do life like this.

—

You’re the one who kisses him for the first time.

There’s a picnic basket - homemade sandwiches and fresh cream buns on a soft patchwork blanket. The sun pounds on your skin, spot of butter on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. You giggle and it lights a fire in his stomach that licks its way through his insides.

You’re so close.

Your lips are soft, your smell intoxicating and he needs to remind himself he’s in a fucking park, but it’s hard not to let himself be completely consumed by you.

Bit late for that pal.

There’s a soft hum in your chest that sends signals straight to his mind, makes him light headed and hazy as he strokes a hand across your cheek.

For the first time he feels like a boy. He’s back in Brooklyn and if you’d been alive a hundred years ago he would’ve asked you to marry him because that’s how deep he’d drowned in you. Like a body of water, you flowed in waves. You pulled him into your current until all he could think of was you.

You giggle because he must look starstruck - blushed cheeks and blown out eyes, lips slightly parted because wow - you amazed him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Bucky says.

“Why didn’t you?” You quirk your head.

“Been out of the game doll,” he chuckles. “Not good with hints.”

“If I said I liked you would that make it easier?” Your eyes sparkle.

“Let’s go back to your apartment.”

You laugh.

—

You’re in his lap, legs spilling across his thighs as you straddle him and Bucky forgets how to breathe.

His hands are everywhere - your hair, your face, up your shirt. Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, but they sit even better on your chest - perked to attention and fuck - they didn’t make them like you in the 40’s.

Maybe you were the reason he survived. All the pain and torture to reach this moment with you. His girl.

You make work of his belt, slip out his cock into your hand before spitting on it. Bucky groans, lets his fingers mess the wetness beneath your panties before you slide onto him with a whine. You move with ease, up and down - Bucky feels like he’s dreaming; mind clouded with lust and all he could feel was you.

“Fuck,” you say when he hits a particularly nice spot deep inside you and he makes a point of rutting up into you to reach it over and over again because he won’t last long. Not with you.

He throws his head back, blows out a breath as he feels the heat starting in his toes. He holds you hip with his metal arm, pounding into you relentless when he feels your legs grow weak and you did so well for him.

You were so good for him.

You fall forward as your pussy squeezes his girth, head on his shoulder and he’s chasing his high before yours is even finished.

You kiss him lovingly, dropping beside him and he pulls a blanket over you. Bucky kisses the top of your head, the sounds of heavy breathing and rapid heart rate battering against his eardrums.

His mind is blank.

“That was…” you drift off.

“Fucking incredible,” he finishes.

—

He brings you roses on your birthday.

Walked miles around town to find the best of the best because you deserve nothing less and he knows that.

He spots you through the window, cleaning a table in the back corner and he has to stop to watch you in this candid moment. He couldn’t believe you would pick him. The fucked up soldier with the fucked up past.

I’m James Buchanan Barnes and I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.

You look up when he walks into the cafe, not shy as you walk towards him, kissing him softly.

“Happy birthday doll.”

You thank him, holding the roses like a new born child and he notices Nathan scowling in the corner as you prepare them in a vase.

“Thought you weren’t into dating?” Nathan spits at you.

You smile at him, before glancing at Bucky with a smirk.

“I’m into older guys.”

Oh - you’d pay for that.

[keysorsomething]

Gun Run

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

I'm so sorry this is late !! I couldn't write it when I was intending to because I felt super bad. I hope you enjoy lol

Cross-posted on Ao3

It had been radio silence between the two of you, since the incident. There were brief, longing glances, but not much else.

He didn’t look awful, thankfully. His eyes looked tired, you could tell. After seeing him truly well-rested it was easy to see the difference, but they weren’t red and puffy. The biggest difference, however, was the beast that stayed behind him, just at his heels.

Velikan had explained it to you - a fluffy animal he had gotten after a mission with his last PMC. Sputnik, he had named it. The hyena was making quite the splash with KorTac at the moment.

You stood, far enough away to make sure König noted you weren’t standing next to Nikto, watching as Graves was absolutely mesmerized by the creature. The blondish American man had meat laid out in a stretched open palm, watching with wide eyes as the hyena licked it up.

“Man, Nikki!” Graves chirps, “You should have mentioned you had one o’ these before,” He stands, elbowing the Russian man in the kevlar-covered ribs. Nikto grunts, stepping back.

“I did not have him with me,” Nikto explains. “There was an issue with the paperwork, and he was living with a friend of ours.”

Graves opens his mouth, but he's interrupted by the loud rumbling of Velikan… rumbling. You can't be too sure of what noises he was making this far away. Graves makes a face of acknowledgment as he nods.

“So, he’s trained for the field?” Graves asks, prodding more even though he's been told not to. You're sure he's aware of what happens to people who push Nikto.

“Да, he is,” Nikto responds. “With any luck, he’ll be with us this next mission, but we are yet to be granted approval,” He continues, throwing a glare to the corner that houses the Colonel.

The Austrian man stands with his arms crossed, a glare in his eyes too. But, as Graves away from him - after hardly even looking - with a scoff, they soften briefly. Velikan pats his commander’s back, gently gripping at his shoulder with a low mumble. Graves sighs.

“Do I gotta?” He asks, and Velikan nods. “Fine.. but I am expecting to see that savanna puppy in action soldier!” He orders as he's pulled away. The rest of the Shadow Company follows as well.

“Don't call it a savanna puppy,” Mace grumbles as they pass you.

A call comes from down the hall in response, “That's what they are!” Before more muffled grunting lets you know Velikan is scolding him. Or maybe laughing. He's too far away to tell. The room is silent, still without Graves. You feel more than one pair of eyes on you, and you shuffle awkwardly.

You throw your hand up in a half-wave, slipping out of the room behind them. You’re unsure where exactly to go, trying to decide between the shooting range or the barracks. You had some paperwork to do, didn’t you? You sigh, trying to calm yourself down. It had been a long few weeks, and it was only going to feel longer.

The setup for the mission is the same as always, a messy rush of people trying to get all of their gear in order. You pull your gun off of its brace on the wall, checking it over briefly. You pull the magazine out, double-checking that it’s empty even though you know it's empty - you haven’t forgotten any details about the last time you touched it. The first time you touched him.

Your eyes flick over to the side, watching Nikto get himself and Sputnik ready. The beast shakes as he tries to put the special kevlar over its neck, and you can imagine that he’s huffing soft swears in Russian to it. Graves watches intently, seemingly wanting to help. Or at least talk to Nikto about it. Velikan seems to have a sharp watch over the both of them. It almost makes you feel bad, since he has so much on his plate without you asking him to babysit Nikto too. You can only imagine what his therapy sessions are like having to take care of Graves all of the time.

You don’t have the time to dwell, though, O’Connor’s voice cutting through as he calls for everyone to hurry the fuck up and get in line. The sound is familiar and oddly comforting, and you can't help but feel the excitement start to fill in the cracks between the stress, anxiety, and fear you’ve been feeling. Those feelings aren't abnormal before you go out, but it's been significantly worse. You usually don't have to be so cautious of how you act and who you hang out with. But König's watchful eyes and judgment of your relationships have been keeping you on edge. Even with your other coworkers, you've been more distant. You take your gun, making sure to check it out as you move to stand in your place.

"C'mon, come on!" He yells, clapping his hand as he chants to get the whole squad ready. It takes a few more minutes, but you end with the group you're going with.

König, Nikto, Izzy, Graves, Velikan, Valeria, and you. A second team was going as well: O'Connor, Hutch, Horangi, Stilletto, Oz, and Mace, but they were to be moved separately. Orders are barked to both groups, everyone piling in their respective cars. You sit in the very back, next to Izzy. In front of you is Nikto, Sputnik at his feet, and Graves, with Velikan in between them.

The whole ride is uncomfortably silent, with soft music playing over the radio occasional instructions from Valeria on where to go, and the crackle of conversation from the other car. O'Connor is hard to hear back here, and you’re unable to make out what he’s saying, only his accent. Sometimes Graves leans over to try to get Sputnik’s attention, kissing at him, only to be swatted away by Velikan.

The ride is long, but the mission should be easy and simple - in and out. It was a rescue mission, as far as you were aware. It doesn’t matter, really. Your job was to go in, secure the area, secure the thing or person, and get out. And you were damn good at your job, you’d like that on record.

You have to drive through a very populated area to get to the building holding it, compared to most of your missions, but it isn’t something that bothers you much. And it makes sense with most of whom you were placed with, like König and Graves.

König pulls through an intersection, the chatter of O’Connor coming through the hand radio attached to a pop-socket on one of the vents. It all happens at once, very fast, the car behind you is hit. You hear the pain through the radio, and the whole of your car lights up.

“Pull over, goddamn it, pull over,” Valeria snaps, swatting at the shoulders of your Colonel. Graves mutters curses, trying to squint past you and Izzy to see the other van. Velikan’s door swings open, a gun shoved out of it. Nikto’s eyes meet yours, wide and panicked. You nod at him, assuring him you’re okay.

This wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

Gunfire is loud - something someone who had never fired a gun before would never understand is that it transcends sound; even with the proper ear protection, big guns shake your bones and change the beat of your heart. You’ve been around it many, many times, but even now you feel how the shots from your coworkers shake up your rhythm and push the air out of your lungs. It’s the only thing that tells you someone on your side is still firing because you can’t see anyone.

You curse, falling back under the flimsy cover of a tipped-over newspaper dispenser - something you were incredibly surprised to see - and release your magazine, shoving a new one into place. With that, you’re out of preloaded mags, and any extra ones are in the long abandoned car fire of the extra car.

You’d seen Hutch get out, pulling Horangi along with him, and you were sure you had seen glimmers of Mace’s gear somewhere around, but that left three members in that car unaccounted for. You shake, taking a deep breath. This was your job. You could die, your friends could die, you had signed up for it. You cast a glance at your own abandoned car, all the doors wide open and all of its contents gone, having been ransacked.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath. You were going to die today, you take a deep breath. You have to accept it. It was hard, but you had to accept it was going to be your last day. Your last mission. You close your eyes, taking a moment to think over everything that’s happened for the past weeks. You should forgive König, even if you can’t do it to his face. You shouldn’t harbor any resentment in your last moments.

Or maybe you should, fuck that guy. You swear again, letting your head fall back against the metal. Your eyes open, looking over the gun in your hands. You start to move, shifting so you can flip back over and start firing again. Just before your head can poke back out into the line of fire, you hear a gentle whimper from behind you. You flip back, eyes wide as you see it. The fluffy, tan beast is next to you, sniffing at your legs.

“Oh, hey,” You speak, sliding back down to offer your hand. “What’s up, buddy?” You ask, looking around. “Where’s Nikto, huh?” It sniffs at your hand before brown eyes meet yours. “Take me to Nikto, okay?” You ask it, and it stands there for a moment before it sets off. You throw your gun up, over your shoulder, and rush off after it. You hear and feel as bullets wizz past you, but they mean less than the thoughts swirling in your head. Was Nikto okay? What about your other coworkers? Was it only you and Sputnik now? Fear rises in your chest at the thought that the beast you're chasing is leading you to the dead body of your.... whatever Nikto is to you.

You feel tears start to form in your eyes, but you try to force them away. Remember your training, all the years you spent trying to turn this off. You have to be solid and strong. You can't cry in the face of who you're hired to kill. There is no time to mourn the losses you feel, because by the time they sink in, you’re off to your next job. There's been so many times that stuff like this has happened.

You can't have it happen again. You're going to stop it, you have to. Your feet hurt by the time you hear it.

"There ya are, puppy!" Graves' voice calls out, and you stop for a moment. Did Graves just call you puppy? What? You stand still, barely registering how Sputnik rushes to the American man, his tail wagging quickly. Graves beams, rubbing the hyena's sides roughly. "Good puppy! Goodboy! You did very well!" He baby-talks it, which helps everything click into place. You sigh, walking forward.

It seems you’ve found some of your comrades, but several of them are still missing. Horangi seems passed out, propped up against a wall. Hutch has wrapped himself up, watching a screen intently. You see Mace on the other side of the alley, gun pointed up. Velikan is with Graves, trying to coach him in something through his muffling mask.

You pant, wiping your face as you look around, “Where’s Nikto?” You ask, And Valeria, and Izzy, and König, and O’Connor? But you don’t voice the rest of the questions, not yet at least.

“Looking for you,” Hutch responds, turning to you with a grin. Sputnik breaks past Graves to jump at the other man, sniffing at his face. Hutch puts a bandaged arm around him, hand on the hyena’s back.

“What?” You swear, looking around. Your hand goes to your mouth, biting your lips. “Do we… wait? Can we wait? I mean, they’ll come looking for us, won’t they? Whoever we’re fighting?”

“That’s where Izzy is,” Graves replies, turning to you. “On the inside, takin’ ‘em out,” He mimics aiming his gun. “Think Valeria’s there too, maybe König,” He lists off, tapping at his face.

“So, what do we do?” You ask, looking at him. He was the one who knew what to do - he had been in charge more than once, and that had to account for something.

“Wait,” Graves responds. “Regroup, until we can form a full assault,” He turns away. “Just wish everyone will stop runnin’ off.”

The sentence alone keeps you pinned to the ground where your feet are. You want to run off, you want to try and find Nikto, but instead, you fall back, sitting on the ground. You sniffle, finally letting your tears meet your eyes. It sucks, crying in front of so many people, and in the middle of the battlefield.

You don’t want to, but you can’t help it. You hide your face in your hands, letting yourself sob as everything hits you at once. Sputnik noses at you, small chuckles coming from the creature. You sob, unable to reach out to it or push him away, just sitting there as the beast sniffs your hair and hands.

“Hey, Boss,” Mace’s voice cuts through your tears. “We have company,” He backs away from his post, and everyone launches into movement. You don't see much of it, but Velikan is pulling at you by your armpits, trying to get you on your feet to get you moving.

“Sorry,” You sniffle, standing. “I’m sorry,” You let him pull you along, grabbing at your gun to keep yourself armed. You wipe your face, trying to get your head back in the game.

Keep a hold on it, keep a hold on it, you tell yourself. You walk as best as you can, leaning on Velikan for support as he moves you forward, everyone falling into formation. Graves shouts out orders from behind you and you start to stabilize yourself.

You don’t feel dizzy, tears don’t fall freely from your eyes anymore and you stand on your own feet. You set off a blaze at an enemy heading your way, turning back to Velikan before you can watch them fall.

“I have it,” You tell him, and he nods, backing off. You can tell he’s still looking at you for a moment longer, but you all push on. It seems like you're in some kind of action film, with enemies flooding you and your team over and over again.

You manage to fight your way into a house, the building providing much better cover than the alley. Everyone rushes around, Velikan and Mace rushing to clear it out, Hutch placing Horangi down, and you rush to a window, assessing the area. Sputnik trails in behind everyone, a wailing man in his jaws. He drags the man in by the back of the neck of his shirt, clearly having mauled him a little before bringing him in.

You rush to close the door behind him when something stops you in your tracks.

“Нет, Спутник,” Nikto's voice cuts through the air from somewhere behind you. Sputnik's tail wags as he shows off the prize he brought. “Нет, put him down. Лежать!” You turn, finding Nikto standing in the doorway. He seems okay, blood splattered over his gear. You drop everything instantly. The door is already shut, and you just leave your gun on the floor by it, rushing over to Nikto.

“Nikto!” You yell, grabbing him into a hug. It's a harsh one, leaving your cheek pressed against him. He goes to speak your name, but you cut him off. “Shush! I just… Long mission,” You snap, and you feel as he relaxes into your hug, wrapping his arms around you. His hand rubs your back, trying to calm you down. You sigh, thinking back over it, all of it - your relationship with him, these past few days, the mission - it was all so much, so overwhelming.

You pull yourself away from him and press your mouth into where his is under the mask, finally able to return the kiss.